After Life
by phlesh
Summary: What happens if you meet your soulmate after you've already died? A five part story. Rated T for language and some later mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Read, review, let me know what you think!  
**

* * *

Imagine that when someone dies, it's kind of like being in a really cool store full of fancy clothing. The person dying- they're the merchandise. Death, he's the buyer. But he's a pretty busy guy, which is why he sends some of his favourite people in for him when he can't make it. _Chloe's_ like the person who takes the clothing to the counter and makes sure it gets put on hold until he can drop by.

And of course, by favourite people, she means people who need to pay their dues. It's punishment, really. Chloe never liked killing people when she was alive- not that she ever did, but the idea never appealed to her- and nothing about that has changed now that she's dead. Sort of. She's in between being dead and alive- and no, not like a ghost, that's something _totally_ different- but she's stuck pretty much being one of Death's henchwomen until he decides she can move on. It's her own fault, though. Turns out, cheating and flirting with Death multiple times will actually kind of piss him off?

He'd argue with her that she wasn't _actually_ killing people- and, okay, maybe not, but she _basically_ was. She was literally leading people to Death. And that's her only interaction. Ever, with anyone. And that's totally depressing. Of course, other than Death, whom she sees occasionally. He's funny and he dresses nice and she has nothing against him, even if she does resent him a little bit. Like, maybe she should be flattered to be all ethereal and like, she's totally gained some really intense knowledge about _dying_ and _what happens to people_ and _space_ and _time_ and _souls_ and all that spiritual crap- but at the end of the day, it's still a punishment. And she still doesn't know it all.

She doesn't actually even know what she does when she's between 'jobs'. It's not like there's TV to watch or she has any transcendent friends to hang out with. Actually, she's like _eighty percent_ sure she ceases to exist when she's not out. Because time goes missing, before she's being swept up and plopped down somewhere. Usually, it's some old person or the terminally ill- or both. She was _really_ pissed that one time he sent her to the children's hospital and she had to lure the poor kid out of the room with promises of Barbies and chocolate and all that good stuff. But Chloe doesn't know if the other side is like that. She's never gotten a chance to see it. So that's what haunts her- the idea that maybe, she had lied to that kid unintentionally. Maybe, that kid had gotten to wherever it is that people went after, and she was scared because it wasn't like that at all.

And, yeah, like she'd said; she's learned a lot. But maybe nothing more devastating than what it's like to be trapped inside her own head, when there's absolutely nothing else around. In those times between, where Chloe isn't sure if she's even real anymore- not that she's ever _really_ sure, come to think of it- but when there's nothing but blackness. She hardly remembers these periods. It's like she floats, in one of those salty zero-gravity pools and she can't see her body. But God, she can hear her thoughts like disembodied voices and for a long time, she relived moments of her past life like a cinematic roll on a projector. She can't recall specifics, but she remembers the pain scratching at her from the inside of her head like a million little claws. Destroying her. Her mom's face, and her dad's. Her best friends. Her best memories and her worst, and the chanting of every regret looping through her mind like an old record set as the backtrack.

She thinks she just about went crazy. But since then, she's gotten better with that. When she finds herself in the blackness, she's learned how to quiet herself. How to give in to the vacant silence, shut herself off. Stop missing people. Burn the roll of footage and meditate. Until she has a purpose. Something to do. And all she can do is hope, pray that soon this will be over, and she will have her shot at her next life. Chloe doesn't know how long it's already been.

* * *

This time, it's a kitchen. A dirty kitchen, littered with scattered bottles from soda, to beer, to water. There's a half eaten pizza in a box on the stove. It's either very late or very early, if the window above the sink is any indicator. And it stinks, too, like vomit. There's a girl, brown-haired and face down on the island, an empty bottle of vodka next to her. She's alone. Chloe can tell by the lack of energy in the house.

The girl had drunk herself to death. Not on purpose, she can tell too, because her spirit wasn't that kind of sad but there was something about it.

There's a rush of movement, as the vacuum of time whirls back into motion. Things started happening again around her. The faucet is dripping. They're in their own bubble now, just the two of them, and Chloe wouldn't know anything that happens outside this fragile placement in space. Which meant that all of these 'jobs' were sort of time sensitive; someone could come in at any point, find this girl's body, and call the ambulance. Chloe would never know, unless she was too late. Something that's happened to her a few times- which, of course, only grants her more punishment, like an extended prison sentence.

Chloe exhales heavily through her nose, leaning back into the sink and shutting it off, leering out of the window as she did so, trying to gauge what time it could be. It was kind of a novelty to her now. But it wasn't to the living. By the lack of lights on in neighbour's houses, she'd say it was very early. Two or three in the morning. So, she wasn't in a great rush.

She takes in the room, roaming around like a lazy tiger, from the garbage to the few images mounted on the walls, the spilled bag on the small wooden dining table. Tissues, hand lotion, headphones, and most interestingly, a name tag; _Beca Mitchell_. Chloe doesn't loiter around there for long, the information striking her as slightly too intimate than what she'd liked to know. She didn't like learning names. It made her _feel_ too much. So, she moves on, attempting to cast aside that finding, coming full circle to rest back at the sink.

Patiently, she waits. It takes a few minutes, but the girl eventually groans slightly, blinking open bleary cobalt eyes. One hand pinching the bridge of her nose and the other coming to prop her head up as she winces, eyes squeezing shut again. She doesn't notice Chloe.

"Hey sleepy," She greets coolly, and the girl jumps in her seat. Wide eyes find Chloe's and she quickly balls her hands into fists and uses them to rub at her eyes, and Chloe smirks. This girl has to be around her age. Or- the age she _was,_ she should say. It kind of gets under Chloe's skin, because she's never had to deal with this before. That, and, something about the manner of her death has Chloe feeling irritated; because _seriously?_ What made her think drinking alone would _ever_ be a good idea? Whether it was alcohol poisoning left unattended, or choking on her own upchuck, here she was. And she was in trouble.

And it reminded her a little bit too closely of her past. A memory itched to be given attention to, but Chloe forcefully avoids it.

When the girl drops her hands again- dark eye makeup now smudged even more so, giving her a bit of a raccoon look- a crease forms between her eyes. "Wha-" She breaks off with a groan, one hand shooting up to her temple as she inhales sharply through her teeth, the hissing sound echoing around the kitchen. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't drunk because she's dead- _dying-_ but she probably feels pretty shitty, regardless. After a moment she tries again. "Who are you? Are you robbing me?"

Chloe fills her lips twitch, just a little, and she shakes her head. The girl's frown only deepens. "No, I'm not robbing you."

"Okay, so," The brunette scowls at her. Chloe can't help but take a moment to sweep in the rest of this girl's appearance, completely. Sometimes, she forgets what people look like. How different they all are. This girl, she's cute- even though there's something jaded about her. But she's small and her dark locks are tousled like bed-head, and the makeup brings out the deep blue of her eyes. Chloe thinks it's especially endearing the way her teeth poke out between her teeth. "What are you doing in my house?"

She misses people. Misses looking at them, but she tries not to think too much about things like the way people she knew well each had their own individual smell, because then she remembers those she misses the most. And touching another human being is what she maybe craves most, but it's also the most dangerous, but she lives for the small moments she gets to hold someone's hand. And she tries not to relapse.

"I've come to see you." She says gently, because why dance around the point? Of course, she's not a dick about telling people they're dead. She likes to ease into it.

The girl knits her brows together. Using the flat of her hand against the counter, she pushes herself to her feet and groans again, one hand holding her dizzy head for a moment. Chloe can remember what this is like. The feeling. The pounding migraine, and the cold-sweat, clammy skin. Only if you go in a nasty way. She's learned that if you go in your sleep, or some way peaceful, it's a walk in the park. But it wasn't that easy for her, and it won't be that easy for this girl, either. "Um, do I know you?" Again, Chloe shakes her head. The girl pauses, eye contact unwavering. "So, you broke into my house?"

Chloe lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Not exactly."

She sees the girl's fingers on her free hand twitch, and spots the cellphone nestled between bottles on the island. Chloe isn't worried. This girl could do whatever she wanted, but once she started trying to contact other people, she'd find that she would soon get very frustrated. "So," She says slowly, like Chloe could only comprehend things being said at half-speed. "how did you get into my house?"

 _Death himself indirectly sent me here, I probably materialised out of thin air? We're in between dimensions and your true physical self is probably going purple and your walking and talking to me is just an illusion?_ Not very comforting. But, she supposes, nothing about this is comforting. "Front door."

The girl blinks slowly. "It wasn't locked?"

Chloe shakes her head, and watches as the girl takes in this information with a brisk nod, before wincing. "No, it wasn't. Listen," Chloe lets her feet move again, wandering over to the island and absently flicking a soda bottle with her index finger. The girl immediately takes a few steps further from her, the phone now in her free hand. "I didn't mean to startle you or anything. I just," She inhales heavily. This girl was so... _young._ It was all she could think, and she looked scared. Alarmed. Neither of which are emotions Chloe likes to evoke in people. Whether they're in their groggy half-dead state or not. Suddenly, she finds it difficult to talk.

Absently, she sees the girl's finger try to navigate her phone, despite the fact that she's still staring at Chloe. The phone doesn't respond. "You _just..?_ " The girl repeats, her eyes now flickering down to the device in her hand to inspect the way it wasn't working.

The truth is; Chloe doesn't want to tell her. She already looked so vulnerable, and it was throwing Chloe off for some reason. See, she's always prided herself in her good judge of character- at least in life. Her friends used to question her- but her secret? It was all in the eyes. The eyes were people's ultimate betrayer. No fronts, no bullshit, no lies- if you knew what to look for, how to read them, they could tell you everything. She totally buys into the saying that ' _the eyes are the window to the soul'_ thing. And Chloe is caught in this girl's.

They're kind.

Straightening up, Chloe wrings her hands out in front of her for a moment, before making some kind of vague, pedalling motion with them in attempt to get her mind moving again. Pull herself out of the blues, before she's part of a seaside shipwreck because of them. "It's just, it's time for me to..." It's proving to be quite difficult. "It's time to go."

The girl inclines her head to her chest, barely blinking. Before her gaze drops again and she's a bit more frantically punching at the home button of her phone, and the screen brightens, but it refuses to register her navigating the touch pad. The hybrid wave of panic and fear radiating from her sends a knife to Chloe's gut. She hates this. She hates causing this kind of feeling. She's about to say something else before the girl's breath hitches in her throat in irritation, and she's meet Chloe's eyes again. "Are you- what does that mean?" She questions quickly, shaking her head. "Do you like, work for a hitman? Are you a stalker? Are you going to kill me?"

It hurts her the most that she can't say no. Because she _is_ going to kill her. Of course it's not the violent way this girl is probably thinking, but, nonetheless, she's not wrong.

And there's a moment; there's something small, and burning inside Chloe's chest that twists. She doesn't want this girl to be scared. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, Chloe shakes her head again, dropping her gaze to the floor, eyes tracing the lines in the linoleum and she has to think. It's never felt like this. It's always felt like a duty she needed to do, and while she dreaded it, she knew it was her responsibility. But she's never felt this conflicted, this labored by it. Except for maybe the little kid. But even that was different.

She dares say she's stuck. The revelation hits her and she laughs at herself a little, before sighing and trying again. This brown-haired girl is looking at her like she's a crazy person. Chloe feels her mouth curve in resignation and she shakes her head once more, "No, no, I'm not- I'm not any of that."

And now her face is contorting in complete bafflement. Her mouth twists downwards and her brows furrow together, baulking. "So, what- what the fuck is this? Can you go?" Her words are laced with venom now, the exasperation blatantly clawing it's way into her voice.

For some reason, that reaction makes Chloe feel alive. She feels her grin stretch in amusement, cocking her head at the girl across from her. "Why does it _have_ to be anything?"

"Uh." The girl states dryly, "Because you're a stranger and you're in my house?"

Wrinkling her nose, Chloe tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear, shifting back a bit so that she can lean into the island, resting her elbows against the surface and propping her head up in her hands. "I guess you have a point, don't you?"

"Yeah." Chloe thinks that maybe the girl's grogginess was ebbing away, which is why the anger was starting to wedge it's way into her voice, into her stance. She's slowly looking more and more like she's been scandalised in the greatest way, which is rightfully justified, considering the circumstances. "Okay so I've already had a really long, weird day so can you like... go? Like, rob me, whatever, I don't care, just go?"

"Sorry." She responds without missing a beat, stiffly shaking her head again in her hands. "I like, I can't. I wish I could but I can't. I can't go."

Beca's face drops, at first in frustration and then with a different kind of intrigue. "Are you... _hiding_ from someone?" It's ushered with the kind of quiet, confused concern that has Chloe's heart warming. As if reading her mind, the brunette continues, "I'm, look, I'm really confused, and I'm kind of freaked out?"

It's such a shift in the girl's demeanour, that it has Chloe pushing herself away from the island, a fond smile on her lips. Cautiously, she takes a few steps towards the smaller girl. Who takes one step back, and Chloe stops in place. "No, it's not that either." She admits, a heaviness resting in her chest. "Please don't be freaked out."

"Then what do you-?"

"I can't go unless you come with me." Chloe doesn't know why her voice wavers, why there's burning behind her eyes. And why getting those words off of her tongue keeps growing harder. She hasn't spoken to someone so close to her age in _so long_. She hasn't been tricked into thinking about how normal things used to be in _so long_. But the tightness in her chest keeps screaming at her that she doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want this to happen to this girl. Not alone.

But everybody dies alone, at the end. Chloe knows this. It's an individualistic experience.

And even if there was a chance for Beca to remember this, she wouldn't. Chloe doesn't remember _her_ spot in between, only what happened after.

She inhales sharply, her hands clenching briefly at her side, and she holds. Holds for a long count to five. Tries to focus on _here_. On the responsibility she has; and that's the girl across from her. Exhaling, she says a bit more firmly. "I _need_ you to come with me."

The brunette's mouth falls open in a small 'o' shape, before she's swinging her head to and fro vehemently. "No- _no_ you psychopath, I'm not going anywhere with you! What the hell? What's going on?"

The incredulous tone is back again, and it slices Chloe as it hits her. She winces. But she's dealt it. And Chloe is quickly wracking her brain for her methodical approach to these things; because this isn't the first time she's been met with hostility. People tend to react in different ways when they're in this place. Ways that aren't always like themselves. "Look," She pleads, once she catches hold of something, putting her palms out in front of her to show she means no harm. "I know you're really confused and wigged out, but you don't need to be. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Can you just-" The girl starts, before pressing her lips together and letting out a groan, dropping her head on her shoulders to stare up at the ceiling. Chloe waits. Watches the way her lips twist into a humorless smile, and her chest heaves with a heavy exhale. She speaks, still looking upwards. "Can you just stop being so creepy, and tell me what the fuck you want from me?"

"Just come with me." She repeats, the growing sense of desperation swelling again inside her chest.

"Come with you- come with you _where?_ For _what?_ " It's an eruption, throwing her hands out to her sides helplessly and bringing her head back down towards her chest. She answers herself before Chloe has a chance. "I'm not going with you anywhere, I don't know you! You're insane!"

"Please. Listen to me."

"No, I don't know you- you _broke_ into my house, you're being all- all _weird_ ,"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Chloe takes another step forward. "Take my hand," She manages, not bothering to open her eyes yet. Simply extending her hand in the girl's direction and praying that she takes it. "You'll understand if you just, just try to take my hand."

"I'm not touching you." Beca says firmly, but the anger was still boiling under her skin, spilling into her words.

She's being difficult, and Chloe can feel her usual patience dwindling. She wants to tell it to her- shout ' _you're dead, Beca!_ ' and she wants to watch the way her face crumples as she tries to make sense of it. The angry part of Chloe wants that. The _hurt_ part. But she swallows that urge and tries again. "I'm not going to do anything to you. Trust me."

Beca's eyes dart rapidly from Chloe's hand to her face a few times. She can see some of the defensive light flicker out from behind those eyes, and she can feel the relief begin to wash over her. She tries to smile reassuringly. After a beat, the brunette tangles her hand in those dark locks and blows out air through her cheeks. "I don't understand."

"I know." Chloe says softly, "It's okay. Just," Chuckling, she waggles her fingers at the girl. "you will. I swear."

The skepticism is clear, and Chloe can't really blame her. And she's just trying to keep her cool because she kind of feels like she might explode if Beca won't just take it. The girl runs her tongue along her bottom lip, eyeing Chloe, before the hand not gripping the cellphone jerks forward hesitantly. It stops halfway there, however, hovering mid-air. A small, non-committal vowel sound leaves her lips before she speaks. "Please don't kill me."

Four words that make her heart stop. Not that it matters. But her breath struggles somewhere in her trachea and the guilt hits her like a freight train in one half of a second. "I won't." It's a lie. The words are detached and strained, and maybe Beca sees that. In the way her movement stutters once again, the shock slack on her face, and Chloe feels her arm slip out from under her.

Furrowing her brow, she glances down at herself. The way her skin was beginning to deteriorate, diffuse like dye in water, coming apart. And the realisation strikes her just as fast.

She was too late.

Which meant someone saved Beca.

Which meant she was going to live, but Chloe was going back. She feels blinding, white-hot panic shoot through her spine like a rocket. " _No_." She whispers, fixated on the way her hand was disappearing into the air around them. Beca's eyes were roving back and forth along Chloe's form, her hand brought back and covering her mouth. She was fading, too. Everything was.

Chloe shakes her head frantically, the tears welling in her eyes. She'd lost people like this before. It never mattered; all it gave her was a sense of disappointment, but, she was also always kind of happy. It might have meant longer time for her, but at least they _survived_. But never before had it felt like Chloe was losing something so important. And she doesn't understand that, doesn't know what to make of it.

And then the dark has consumed her, and that's the only thing her conscience can think about. Ocean blue eyes and the inexplicable sensation in her chest. And the awful, awful reminder of what life _used to_ feel like.


	2. Chapter 2

**Who wants Chloe's origin story..? ;)**

* * *

She thinks about Beca sometimes.

She isn't sure how long it's been or how much longer that little failure had gotten her, but she stopped caring.

She's playing chess. With Death. He likes to take vacation days sometimes and in doing so he likes to hangout with some of his cronies- Chloe suspects he might get lonely too. A lot of people who should have died today are going to live. There will be some miracle plane crash story, or something. Of course, he does have people out working for him though- he can't just stop. And he'll go out between games to pick up some soulful little pieces, but then he'll come back, light up a cigarette and pull out someone else to play with him.

He's fond of cigarettes. He's fond of things that kill people and he thinks cigarettes are damn near one of mankind's greatest creations, maybe even above guns. Sometimes, he's not much of a conversationalist- or he's the most interesting person ever because _duh, Death_ \- but he's quite charming either way. And Chloe can never quite differentiate what he looks like other than the fact that he has a nice smile and breathtaking eyes- although she isn't sure what colour they are. She forgets every time she looks away.

"Checkmate." He crows, stretching his arms out above his head and leaning back in the chair. He never loses. Chloe keeps playing him though cause at least it's something to do. Other than think about the girl she almost brought to him _who-knows-how-long-ago_.

"Darn it." She curses, using her index finger to irritably knock down the king figure. It clatters against the porcelain board.

His laugh is rich and genuine, and completely without malice. Really, he isn't scary at all. Chloe isn't sure where all these ' _Reaper in dark robes with bony limbs'_ myths come from. But he puffs on his cigarette , observing the board for a long moment, before he puts out the butt in the overflowing ashtray next to him. "You always put up a good match," He waggles a finger at her, "I'll give you that." And then he's smiling again and Chloe's feeling a small heat creep up into her cheeks. It's just kind of weird to have Death complimenting you about your chess skills, that's all. "Your father taught you, yes?"

That throws her off-centre. There's a flash of a memory somewhere and Chloe quickly smothers it, refusing to do anything other than acknowledge what she knows from it. "Yeah." It's followed by a rushed exhale and a sheepish grin. "Uh, yeah. Yeah a long time ago."

He hums thoughtfully, head lilting from side to side as he lit another cigarette. Chloe isn't sure where it came from. Nor where the match did. But she feels her shoulders tense; he does this sometimes. When he wants to really talk. And it's always unnerving because he already knows everything- whether Chloe has told him or not- somehow. So he just rehashes.

He especially likes to talk about the things that hurt.

She doesn't think he likes to do it because he's a sadist- surprising, again, because Death- no, she thinks it more so comes from a place of wanting to... _help_. Like therapy. Which is really, really bizarre. But she can tell the things that hurt interest him. Maybe it's the part of the human condition that he doesn't understand.

"It _was_ a long time ago." Smoke leaves leaves his mouth as he speaks, before he's nodding in some kind of silent agreement and pushing the rest of the stream out of his lungs. "I should go."

She feels herself release a breath. The curiosity got to her; she _did_ want to know _just how long_ she's been here, like this, but she fears the answer. Chloe knows she'll correlate it to those she used to know. Imagine what they're like now. What she's missed out on.

It's better not to think about all that.

Not in the dark, where she finds herself again. And she waits, and waits, and waits until she can go somewhere. And then she goes, and she takes an old man's hand, leads him out of the hospital bed and together they walk off of the edge of the earth.

He thought she was an angel.

* * *

It's a car crash. Always nasty. Some little black Honda with a dent done to the driver's side, near the rear. Nothing too bad- the real damage was on the passenger side, where the car must have recoiled from the hit and crashed into the tree at the edge of the road. Chloe knows that's where she needs to go; like a gravitational pull, and she can do nothing other than oblige to the tug.

The second Chloe arrives, she sees people stop moving- the freeze, followed by the rush as she starts walking between life and death.

In the other car, she can see the man's shocked face stuck behind his steering wheel, all wide eyed. There are a few bystanders. Two people approaching the Honda at the tree, one woman half in-half-out of her car while her husband approached the car with the stunned man. With this many people around; Chloe knows she has to make quick work of this.

She scurries a little, approaching the wreckage and only sparing a small glance at the bigger blonde woman behind the wheel. She was going to be fine. Chloe runs a her hand along the hood of the car as she rounds the front of it, fingers sliding through the glass of the fractured, splintered windshield, but the shards don't puncture her skin. Can't. But she feels them under her fingertips, quietly revels in the sensation.

Once on the passenger side, Chloe stoops down, unable to open the door due to crushed side of the car. That could be a problem. But this window is shattered completely, so she works with what she has.

The moment her eyes land on the face in the passenger side, her blood runs cold. She has to blink a few times, and when the face remains the same, she shuts her eyes; _tight_.

There's no way. The chances were literally one in billions- _billions!_ \- and here she is again. The girl that she'd been keeping alive inside of her head, silent, for such an unknown amount of time that it drove Chloe mad. It's Beca. Bloody-faced and dead- _dying_ \- again. She'd already survived once, and she was here again, and _of course_ Chloe had to be the one to find her. It's overwhelming. She'd resolved on being happy that Beca was okay- but now... Now Chloe had to take her. She feels her stomach lurch violently and her hands squeeze around the frame of the broken window. The glass crunches under the touch but nothing happens- Chloe's finding herself wishing something would- and she has to take a long, sharp inhale through her nose, and then release it through her mouth to keep herself from completely losing it.

She opens her eyes just in time to see Beca coming to; and if there was any small strand of hope that Chloe had that this wasn't her, those indigo blue eyes eradicate that thought in a second. And watching them roll in their sockets, taking in the situation, completely and entirely dismantles Chloe.

She looks a few years older now. Maybe two or three. Her face as slimmed down slightly and she wasn't wearing as much eye makeup as she was the first time they were acquainted.

And then Beca looks at her. And she feels that twist in her gut again. There's something; a flicker that's almost unnoticeable, behind those eyes. A faint recognition, maybe.

"Have you called an ambulance?" The girl croaks, wincing as she moves against the seat, one shocked hand coming to reluctantly touch her own face. Assess the damage.

And, honestly, Chloe has seen worse. A revelation that has her unusually comforted at that notion, like maybe there's a chance she'll be okay again. The door looks like it might have broken her ankle, caught between the metal and the seat, and the glass has ripped her up a little, but she's not profusely bleeding from anywhere.

Until she moves her head to look at the girl in the driver's seat- eyes closed, both hands still white-knuckling the wheel- and Chloe sees the real problem here. Head wound.

But, again, she's seen worse?

She wants to cry. The urge seizes Chloe's insides like a vice grip, that has her snaring her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches Beca's stiff, jerky movements. She hasn't noticed the head wound- can't feel it- beyond the usual thumping the temples that accompanies this period of time. Chloe takes a breath. Tries to. It struggles a little. " _Yeah_." Because surely someone out there has by now. But her voice is shaking violently and there's one confused thought after another tumbling around her mind. And almost every single one of them is asking her why it matters, why Beca continuously does this to her.

Beca hasn't looked back at her yet. Just at the girl in the front seat, one hand tentatively touching her arm, snapping her fingers in front of her face. "Amy? Amy?" Her voice rises, frantic, and the hand on the girl's arm begins to shake her. She's unresponsive. But only because they're in their own bubble now.

Just the two of them.

But the girl's growing anxiety did nothing to soothe the feelings in Chloe's gut. The staggering sadness coming from Beca- thinking that the girl next to her was dead when it was really the opposite- was slapping Chloe in the face. "She's fine." She whispers after a moment, and it feels far away, even in her own ears. She worries if Beca had even heard her.

"She's not-" Beca prods at the girl again, shaking her head slightly, before turning wide-eyes back to Chloe. "she's not waking up."

"She's okay." Chloe repeats, firmer this time. She offers the girl a watery smile, surprised to find the tears welling in her eyes. She hadn't quite noticed them form. "I promise, she's fine."

Those inky eyes dart back to the girl next to her. "How do you know? She's not, not doing anything, she-" The brunette breaks off, lurching towards the blonde again, visibly wincing from the quick movement. But shaking fingers stutter over the girl's skin, on her neck, and under her nose. "She's- I don't think she's breathing. Oh, _fuck!_ " She hisses, pressing deeper into the skin on her neck. "Fuck! You called an ambulance, right?" She swivels back at Chloe to look at her over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah I did." She repeats, and Beca seems to nod before diverting her attention. And, Chloe kind of remembers again that there should actually be one on it's way.

"Oh my god, oh my god,"

"Come on," Chloe extends her hand towards Beca, because she has to do this. "Come on, let's get you out of here. " She doesn't want to. But she does, desperately, want to help Beca.

Beca blinks owlishly at the appendage, before her gaze lowers and she seems to just now consider her ankle, crushed in the door. It's not a problem. Not as much of one as Beca is surely expecting it to be. "Oh," the girl breathes, "oh, my- my foot."

Something about it- the burdened, breathy way Beca says it aloud as she clues in, makes Chloe grin. "Move it." She encourages gently, and the perplexed expression the girl gives her next is even better. Like it's so totally obvious that she _can't_ , not when it's crushed between the car and the seat like that. A small bubble of laughter leaves the redhaired girl next, as she explains, "It's not as difficult as I'm sure you think it'll be. Just try."

Beca almost looks offended. "Um, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Try." She urges, lifting her hand again to offer it to the brown-haired girl. "Here, take my hand."

Beca blinks at her for a few more moments. But her eyes drop down to the foot, and she's curiously wiggling it, and it's responding. Chloe can hear the sharp intake of a surprised breath, before her eyes dart up to meet Chloe's for a brief moment, and she hesitantly drops her hand into the one waiting for her.

It's all in Chloe's power not to gasp the second skin meets skin. But she remains stoic. Inhales deeply, sets her jaw, and privately rejoices in the way soft, warm skin feels in her own. A small pleasure she always allows herself, but none so like this. It's stops every confused thought. Stops it in it's tracks. She's not sure how her synapses are- if she still even has them- but she thinks that maybe in this moment, if she does, they all fire at once and then it's nothing but silent, swelling bliss.

Because maybe she'd been waiting for this. Dreaming of it. Maybe she refused to admit it to herself but still was, nonetheless.

Chloe can barely take it in, she's too busy in her own enlightenment to really pay attention to the way Beca is slipping her foot out from between the metal. Like it was made of rubber, just wedged in a tough spot, but she gets it out and rolls the ankle in circles in awe. "It's not..." Her voice snaps Chloe out of it. "broken?"

Chloe feels her mouth pull in a lopsided grin again. "No, don't worry about that."

It's maybe selfish to find happiness in the way the girl wasn't lashing out this time, because this time she's scared in a different way. In shock. This time, she knows she was in an accident- unlike that of their last meeting, where she'd simply woken up, oblivious from her drunken stupor that something had went wrong. This time, Chloe can help her. Marvel in this new side to the girl that she hadn't previously been shown; and the girl before her this time is soft, vulnerable. But she can't stand here forever, no matter how much a part of her wants to. "C'mon," she urges softly, gripping Beca's hand tighter in her own and pulling away from the window. "Let's get you out of here."

Blinking, the girl casts a look at the woman in the seat next to her over her shoulder once again. "Amy..?"

"We can help her after." Because she clearly wasn't buying Chloe's reassurances that she's totally fine.

She can see Beca's throat bob in a moment of uncertainty, before she's nodding a little, and scooting over towards the window. "How do I..?" She gestures towards the door, the missing window. Chloe grins, shuffling closer to the crushed vehicle, until her knees are bumping against the frame.

"Trust me?" And the brown-eyed girl's eyes narrow.

"I don't know." Beca admits, after a beat. Chloe can't help but think that she's probably smart for that. She _shouldn't_ trust her, after all.

She doesn't let that deter her. Wordlessly, she guides the hand in her own around the back of her neck, and motions for Beca to repeat the process with her other. "I'll help you out."

Beca's eyes meet her own, imploring almost. Chloe can feel the panic beginning to wash away, like waves, and the calm beginning to settle over the girl. Apathy, almost. That's fine. Detachment is fine. It makes people more agreeable. And, as expected, Beca reluctantly reaches around with her remaining hand, clasping it into a lock with her other around the back of Chloe's neck. She smells like black licorice, and cherries.

"I'm going to back up now." She informs the brunette, just in case it startles her. Beca nods. "Just work with me here, okay? It's going to be totally fine." Nods again. Carefully, Chloe begins to backtrack, pulling Beca along with her. "I'm going to grab your waist, is that okay?" Nods. Chloe inhales sharply before bringing her hands up to brace them around the smaller girl's waist, and keeps backpedalling. She feels Beca stiffen as her body is pulled through the glass of the broken window, but it doesn't affect her, anyway.

She watches her footing cautiously as she works around the tree, towing Beca with her, until she can gently place the girl on the ground. Beca immediately clutches onto the car, wobbily. The poor thing is terrified. She's going to hate breaking the news to her. Giving her one single, reassuring squeeze, Chloe pulls away, fingertips skimming along the fabric of her shirt, idly noting the denim waistband of her jeans and-

What is that?

What on _God's_ green one, is _that?_

She can feel the colour drain from her face, and her whole body tenses. Her eyes flit down once again to take in that- _that thing_. Because there's no way- _no fucking way._

"Hey, Beca?" She hears herself through a cotton-headed moment of absolute dumbfounded awe. She blinks. My God, this is like an out of body experience and she's already dead. "Where are we?"

And the brunette must notice the way she tenses, the complete shift in her demeanour- and if she could look more horrified, she is now. Which, Chloe can barely register that she feels bad about but suddenly she has tunnel vision and she's spiralling one hundred and eighty miles an hour through the twilight zone. "We're in- we're just outside of Atlanta." The girl stutters, blinking frantically.

Chloe shuts her eyes. There's one too many senses right now bombarding her. " _Georgia_?" She enunciates every syllable, like the word was foreign and she was just learning it.

There's a beat. She can't see Beca, but the pregnant pause between them she's sure lasts far too long. "Yeah." It's breathy, riding the coattails of an exhale. "Yeah, Georgia. Hey, wait a second, how did you know my-?"

"This is," Something that's maybe close to hysteria grips her- tight- and she flutters her eyes open again to look at that thing tied into the loop of her jeans. "This is a Bellas scarf?"

Dancing. Singing. The thought makes her heart vibrate uncomfortably and she's too close- too, too, _too_ close to remembering anything too clearly, too specifically. She's far too close to remember the happiest part of her life connected to- who would have guessed it, acapella singing- and far too close to remember. _Aubrey._

There it is. Aubrey's face and being co-captain and Barden and Bellas and highschool and -

"Yeah, it's a Bellas scarf..?" Beca sounds lost. She has a right to sound lost. "Are you- a... fan?"

"We, uh. You go to- to Barden." Yeah, that's definitely nervous laughter. It leaves her in a manic burst that's very unpleasant in her own ears. "Yeah, right. Okay. You go to Barden. I went to Barden." She adds quickly, trying to smile, failing miserably.

Beca is looking at her like she's suddenly sprouted a second head. "Okay? Can we, can we help Amy?"

That scarf. She can't look at that scarf without thinking about it. She can't look at _Beca_ without seeing the scarf. She can't think about it and survive here, in this place. This _in between_ torture. So, she turns away for a moment, tilting her head towards the sky and inhaling deeply. "Beca listen." She has to say it. Now. Maybe it's best that she doesn't look at her when she does, even though that's _totally_ chicken shit.

"How do you know my name?"

Fuck. Blowing the air out of her cheeks, Chloe drops her head back down, using the toe of her shoe to absently kick at the soil. She hates getting personal with people. It reminds her of breaking up, it's so much easier when people can just get up and walk away with her. She also totally has no answer to Beca's question that wouldn't freak her out even more, so. "Doesn't matter. But, I need to tell you something."

Silence stretches out behind her. She doesn't want to look back. She does. Beca's just waiting, watching, she looks kind of like maybe this is starting to make sense. In the way her face falls, the way her eyes dart around desperately, everywhere but at Chloe.

Chloe nods, to herself, angling her body back towards the girl. But her eyes are far, far from her. From that scarf. "Beca you're..." She doesn't want to say it. Really doesn't. She screws her face up- why was she being so _sensitive_ about this? It's like this girl just opens her head up and starts pulling out the circuit wires of her head. "You're dead."

 _There._

She _said_ it.

She does fail, however, at keeping her gaze averted from that girl when she breaks the news. Beca blinks a few times, straightening up slightly, as she looks around her. Chloe can see her chin wavering.

" _Dying_." Chloe corrects herself quickly, uncertain at what else to say. "You're not dead."

"I'm dying but I'm not dead?" She thinks it's supposed to be a snap but it really has none of the bite to it. Chloe nods her head.

"Technically, yeah." She kicks herself as soon as she says it. For God sakes, she knows how she's _supposed_ to deal with this- she's done it enough times. It just takes a lot to try to put the circuits back together, especially with that big yellow blast from the past sticking out like a sore thumb. Beca, however, breaks. A few fat tears fall from her eyes, and she's vehemently shaking her head, chest heaving as she struggles to take in air. The sight shakes Chloe a little bit, and she holds up her hands, palms up. "But- look, look it's really it's not as bad as you think!" She tries, and kicks herself even harder. Because of course it fucking is she's _dead_ for Pete's sake.

"Not as bad as I think?!" She bats Chloe's hands away like she just assaulted her herself.

She deserves that one. "That was the wrong thing to say." She agrees hastily, pleading almost. "But getting panicked isn't going to make this any easier-"

" _Fuck_ you!"

" _Whoa!_ " Chloe knits her eyebrows together, holding her hands up in her defense once again. "Look, I'm sorry, but-"

" _But_ what?!" So much for the soft, vulnerable side. She opens her mouth to respond- granted, Chloe isn't sure what she should say, but the brunette is cutting her off again before she even has a chance. "No, _fuck you_!"

She gets it. She really does. Chloe doesn't deserve this girl's trust, she knew that from the beginning, and there was absolutely no reason why that should make her feel as shitty as it does. It's just another job. "Beca." She hangs her head shamefully, "I'm really sorry."

"Dude, I don't even-" Beca shakes her head, glowering over at Chloe. And it's hate. She can see it. The way it burns behind those dark blues and the way her whole body vibrates with it. It makes her want to cry all over again. "I mean, who the fuck are _you_ , anyways?"

She is _so_ not going to answer that.

"You don't believe me." She murmurs, keeping her gaze trained carefully on the dirt at her feet. It should be a question but it's not, and she doesn't have to see Beca to know she's looking at her in a way that implies that she mustn't. "Touch the back of your head." Chloe sees the girl's feet shuffle after a pause. Beca was just in denial. And that's totally an okay reaction. That's _normal_. No one wants to believe they're dead. Chloe looks up to see Beca suspiciously lifting one hand to the base of her skull, probing around for a moment, fingers tangling in dark hair as her hand hikes farther upwards, and then stops. She sees the panic flash across the girl's face as she locates the wound. "It's fine." She tells her, after a moment of watching the girl's face morph into several different emotions. "You don't need to be afraid."

Dark eyes find hers, and they're swimming. "I have a life." Her voice is thick with tears. Chloe has to look away again. "I have- a dad, and a- a boyfriend, and a job. I have things I still want to do- I can't, this can't-" She cuts herself off with a deep, shaking inhale of breath.

"I know what it feels like." Chloe admits, mind skittering far too close to some of those words. _Boyfriend. Dad_. "And it sucks. I've been where-" There's no reassuring thing she could tell her truthfully. She desperately wishes there was.

Beca's eyes flicker downwards, one eyebrow arching towards her hairline. Chloe follows her line of sight.

It's déjà vuin the best kind of way. Her heart breaks and swells at once, and she can't stop herself from giggling at the sight. She's ribboning away from herself.

Beca is leaving again.

But her desperate wishes had given her something to say.

"You're okay!" She bursts quickly, before she disappears. Beca's eyes widen, darting around her frame. "You're okay- _you're okay_! Someone- the ambulance- someone saved you! You're going to live!"

She sees Beca nodding wildly, trying to make sense of the situation. She sees it all the way until she goes black. Her surprised delight kept her from noticing the way Beca didn't melt, not like she was supposed to.

* * *

Like some thread of a pattern during the course of Chloe's existence- both living _and_ dead- Chloe thought wrong. This time, after she'd left Beca she'd hoped for closure. Like seeing her again would somehow help her unhealthy obsession; provide a sense of satisfaction. Convince her that Beca was just like every other person- despite her ability to slip away, repeatedly, but that was also partially due to the fact that the mere sight of her managed to continuously bewilder Chloe. And that means she can't do her job right.

But it's so much worse this time.

What are the chances that Chloe would get her, and lose her, twice? What are the chances that she went to Barden? And then, good God, that scarf. It was eating a hole through the carefully layered and protected part of her psyches that Chloe had put a lot of effort into repressing, thank you very much. It was like battery acid dumped into the grey matter of her brain.

That shade of yellow was dangerous and it was a now freshly reopened wound. The name Aubrey was progressively becoming harder to ignore again and Chloe knows that that is a slippery slope. Because the name attracts a _face_ attracts _memories_ attracts _other people_ attracts _other memories_ \- domino effect.

But the coincidence that was Beca Mitchell was gnawing at her with growing irritation, even more so now that she'd indirectly assaulted her with a barrage of reminders at an old life. And she could shove it all away as much as she could, but it was buoyant and continued to float to the surface of her consciousness. Even when she was out trying to do jobs, the thought of Beca would distract her. It was almost attachment. She knows this because she'd been too tempted on more than one occasion in her boredom to absently fantasize different scenarios of potential interactions. _That_ was hazardous above all else. But no matter how hard she tries she can't get over fortuitous circumstance that was their second meeting. Fate, serendipity- Chloe isn't sure what to believe but in no time at all the occurrence has basically taken on a living, breathing spot in the forefront of her brain.

And she's so frustrated about all of that, that- _oh_. Chloe's train of thought comes to an abrupt halt and she blinks, eyes adjusting to the warmth of the room.

This was awfully soon for another meeting.

Death, idly, looks up from his notepad as she... _appears._ He looks like he's been pacing, but not anxiously, just in his usual busy-manner. "You wanted to see me?" He returns his attention to the notepad, simply crossing something off with the pen held in his opposite hand. Fun fact; he's a leftie.

And... _had_ she?

Chloe reels for a moment, mouth flapping open and closed like a goldfish. She hadn't really thought about it. But she also knows that he can't be wrong, so. Death then glances up at her, eyebrows arched expectantly. "You're awfully loud in there." He explains casually, before turning back to his paper. He flips the page over, studying the words written on the opposite side of it. Crosses something else off.

Chloe isn't sure where ' _there_ ' is, or how he knows, or why now he suddenly cares or pays attention. "You can hear me?" A crease forms between her brows.

"Only when I check in." Coolly, he draws a line through one last thing before he's stuffing the notepad back in his pocket, and replacing his hands with a carton of cigarettes. Chloe nods, like that should be obvious. But it's the first time she hears of that.

"Do you check in often?"

"No." He lights the cancer-stick and takes a long drag, looking at her thoughtfully all the while. "But I can sense your agitation- I thought that all cleared up?"

He talks about it like it was a rash. But there was a quiet curiosity in his tone and, well, if anyone would have an answer maybe it's him. Chloe lilts her head to the side, delicately plucking through the thoughts in her head, trying to find the right words. "Well... something strange happened." She admits slowly, eyeing the man across from her warily as he blows the stream from his mouth. "I'm- I don't know what to make of it. I- you sent me to the same girl; twice." He quirks a brow, the cherry of the cigarette burning bright as he inhales on it again, patiently waiting. Chloe shakes her head. "I don't know if you know. I just found it really strange."

"If I sent you to her twice does that mean she lived twice?" He queries dryly, the pillow of smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke. Chloe feels her cheeks burn red.

"I- yeah. Yeah she lived both times." Sheepishly, she hangs her head for a moment, letting out a sigh before meeting his eyes again. "She has a bit of a strange effect on me. And, she went to the same school I did. I don't know- it's just all such a coincidence." He grunts, rather ambiguously. Chloe isn't sure how to decipher that response, but she manages to come to the conclusion that she might need an answer, otherwise it will continue to eat her alive. "Her name is Beca Mitchell," She feels her lips twitch when she says her name aloud, "she's um, small. Brunette. Ear piercings," She gestures awkwardly to her own ears, "The first time I went to her she was dying of maybe alcohol poisoning or she choked, I'm not sure. This last time- this _recent_ time, she was in a car accident. Passenger side. Atlanta, Georgia?" She's rambling. And she isn't sure what answer she wants to hear, or even what the question is, really, other than _'why_?'. "Do you know who I'm talking about?"

And his eyes twinkle. Of course he knows. They twinkle like this is some kind of private joke between the two of them, and that unnerves Chloe, because she isn't sure what the joke is. He blows out another puff of nicotine and tobacco, playful eyes that might be blue-or green- or brown- looking her over as he secures the cigarette between his teeth before he pulls the notepad out of his pocket again. "This is having an effect on you?"

"Yes." Chloe admits, breathless. "I don't know why." He tuts, maybe growing impatient, as he crosses something else off of his paper. "What happened to her?"

He freezes, mouth curled into a sly grin around the dwindling butt of the smoke. "What do you mean?"

"Like," She makes some kind of vague, pathetic hand gesture. "Is she alright? And did this happen on purpose? Did you..?"

"Are you worried about the _living_?" He teases, pulling in another drag and smiling. Chloe falters, stuttering for a few moments- because this was hopeless. It was hopeless and confusing and she doesn't even know _where_ to begin with it, let alone try to explain the start of her questions. "But yes, I _do_ know who you're talking about. She's here," He taps the notepad with his pen to emphasize, "I'm watching her."

Chloe's heart tumbles and topples and performs a few acrobatics that very nearly have her wheezing. If he's actively watching her, that means one of two things. "What do you... _mean_? Is she..?"

"Coma." He responds simply, flashing her a grin for good measure. It sort of makes Chloe feel sick. He's never been much of a bad guy, and he was just talking about his business, but it doesn't do anything to fix the way he's sort of coming across like a villain to her at the moment. In her moment of dizzy befuddlement, he flicks the ash from the cigarette and takes another quick puff. "Yeah, that car accident- she, well, you didn't quite get her on time, did you?" He levels her with a look not unlike one that a teacher might give a child that misbehaves regularly, but despite of it, they were still fond of the kid.

The gears were turning now. "But she's..." The blood was pounding in her ears and she thinks she might be experiencing something like adrenaline. " _dying?_ " He nods again, affirming it.

Chloe knows a thing or two about comas. She's had to get people from comas before; and, really, it's a tricky subject. They _are_ dying but they _aren't_. They're in that sweet spot in between. Death just doesn't usually send her there until they're done for sure. "Well, yeah." He replies, taking one last long drag on the cigarette before wandering over to his desk, pressing the butt into the ashtray and releasing his breath.

"Can I get her?" She says it quickly, before she can talk herself out of it. Quizzically, Death looks up at her. "Can I go there?"

He presses his lips together thoughtfully. "If you've already lost her twice, I'm not sure I trust you a third time."

"It'll drive me crazy if I'm not the one to do it." Insistently, she takes a step forwards, the plan formulating itself inside her head. It's a lie, really. She just wants time with Beca. "The one that got away- _twice?_ And come on, she's in a coma. How long has she been in there already?"

"Thirteen days." He doesn't miss a beat, and Chloe is shocked to find out that little time has passed. It's felt like weeks.

"Let me do this." She appeals, clasping her hands together. "Please."

Death sighs, eyes flickering down towards the watch fastened against his wrist. Shaking his head at himself, he moves to draw lines in a few other names. He was thinking. Analyzing. Chloe had all the time in the world; and an excitement brewing in the pit of her stomach. Keeping an even-head was difficult. He could very easily say no.

"Fine."

He doesn't. He eyes her watchfully, pursing his lips together as he marks one last name and drops the notepad back into his pocket. "I have to go. Try your hardest."

* * *

She wakes up in a hospital room.


	3. Chapter 3

There are one of three ways that you can cheat Death.

The first being is that it's a total, honest to God accident. For example; _Beca_. Both times. Those times are on Chloe, really. Sure, he'll be annoyed, but he shouldn't hold that to you too closely. He's not that petty, and he totally gets that sometimes, there are mistakes. But, unfortunately, if it happens enough, he will hold you accountable. This is probably the most common way he gets screwed over.

The other two require a lot more thought, skill, patience, and the only sure-fire way to test it is through practice. Knowing what it has gotten her now, Chloe passionately advises otherwise. Not that she has anyone to advise.

First, have a near death experience. And then reflect, and let the curiosity get the best of you. Make sure you know everything you can; the signs leading up to the almost moment of death. (A strong jerking motion when the heart stops. You may notice you suddenly get super cold, for half a second. An almost overwhelming feeling of love and other positive emotions. A detached sense of removal from the physical world. You may have an out of body experience. You may see a bright, white light.) For better results, Chloe would recommend an increased knowledge in spirituality, and meditation. Then, kill yourself- but, do it in a way that's _really_ ineffective and either let someone know or, if you're shy, just do it somewhere you'll be found right away. Don't blow your head off, because there's really no coming back from that. And proceed to fuck with Death with your conscious awareness of your own death, therefore, you can stall for long enough that you get saved. Honestly, it's pretty enlightening. And, you might not remember what happens while you're there, but if you go in prepared, you won't forget how it feels. The bliss. Psilocybin should be avoided afterwards.

Seriously. Just don't.

Once confident with your skills in that department, research further. Become obsessed. Drop everything else. Your friends will think you're crazy, they might push you towards a therapist. Don't let that worry you. Start a dream journal, and train your brain to realize when you're asleep. Being lucid is your next greatest asset. And, while you're asleep, if you ever get the urge to stand, do it. Go ahead. Live on the edge. It's _totally_ fine. If you can manage to do this, know that you're almost on Death's level; but, not quite. You aren't in the sensory deprivation tank, but you're somewhere close. Interestingly enough, Death can't see you here. He might be able to sense your presence, had you coincidentally been in the same room, but- there's an advantage. You should go to a hospital if you're in this position and aren't easily terrified. Because you too, can see when people are dying. And you can tell them to get the hell back in their body. You can save lives. This discovery, on her part, was a complete accident.

Death will fucking _hate_ you.

And then, there's the flirting.

Flirting with Death isn't unlike that of any other man, really; you start by getting his attention. After that, it's all about the chase. If you're persistent, you bet your ass he's going to notice. See, sex is biology. And Death may be after something a little bit different, but it all works the same. When enticing a man, you need to know how to play your cards, and when. Don't dive in too fast; that's an amateur mistake- keep them waiting. Keep them eager. Keep them guessing. It's not a naked woman that gets them excited, it's the possibility.

Death is a man of great appetites, but he's all the same, at the bottom of it.

In a scenario, replace the idea of sex with that of dying. Get the picture? This is why Death hates adrenaline junkies. Watching some- in his frustrated opinion- idiot plunge off of the side of a cliff with nothing more than a bungie tied around their ankle and live is the equivalent of blue balls for him. And when it keeps happening and they don't deliver, well, they're just a tease.

And Chloe's been accused of being a tease before.

"You," Death had chuckled to himself, waving a reproving finger in her direction. She'd been standing in the middle of his room, cold and only slightly terrified, as he inspected her. "are maybe single-handedly one of the most devious, genius little tricksters I have come across in a very long time."

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" She'd responded warily, finding use of her hands only by wringing them together in front of her. She felt a little embarrassed, honestly. She'd been toying with him for quite a while now, and supposed maybe she kind of forgot about how she wasn't indestructible. She'd gotten too comfortable.

His eyes twinkled, all kinds of wonderment and satisfaction. "A compliment." He responds after a moment. "You are far too smart for your own good." Chloe shrugs.

"Yeah, well. What good does that do me now?"

"Oh, none." Brutal honesty is something he does well. It has it's benefits and drawbacks. He lit his cigarette then and pretty much continued by laying down what was going to happen to her now, and, well, not much has changed since.

She much preferred the saving lives to the taking them.

And she wonders if she can live up to that again with Beca.

* * *

Beca is already awake when she gets there- they usually are when it's like this- and Chloe hangs off of the edge of the doorframe for a moment, watching. As usual, she doesn't seem to notice. She's sitting cross-legged on the bed cot, staring out the window, and the sun pouring from between the curtains illuminates the drying tears against her cheeks. Chloe could only imagine the things running repeat through her mind. Thoughts chasing their own tails, loping in circles.

It's only so long though before Chloe feels like she's intruding, and she raps her knuckles against the frame politely. "Knock, knock?"

Beca jumps, one hand flying to rest over her heart and the other white-knuckling the comforter on the cot. Dark eyes bulging to the point where they could just near fall out of her skull. And then, in the snap of an instant, those same eyes are squeezing shut and there's a dam flooding over her cheeks, a mantra of ' _no_ ' falling from her mouth in pleading bursts. Chloe's chest seizes. Shaking her head vehemently, Beca regains knowledge of words other than the single-syllabaled prayer she was repeating. "Am I dead? I-" The brunette brings one hand up to sweep out in front of her, gesturing to the room unsurely. "Is this a coma? Am I dead now? I don't know how long it's been... The sun- holy shit it doesn't go away-"

It's a bombardment of questions and she's frantic, Chloe can tell- panicking again. Honestly, she wasn't sure what she thought the reaction would be, but she's pretty certain now that she had been prepared for maybe exactly none of them, despite what her recent resume would imply. But the rules don't really apply to this girl in front of her. "I know- I know Beca, it's shit-" Chloe's talking about the sun, she thinks.

"What- stop! Stop saying my name, how do you know my name?" The girl explodes, holding her head in both hands and staring at Chloe with those imploring, desperate dark blues.

"Listen- I'll get to that," She inches forwards slightly, into the actual room and aiming for the chair in the corner. "But you aren't dying. You are in a coma but you aren't dying. I just wanted to see you."

There's some shift, almost imperceptible, as she watches Beca throat bob. Her eyes squeeze shut and she lays back, head tilting backwards to thump against the wall with slightly more force than necessary. It was a look of resignation if Chloe ever saw one. "Are you a figment of my imagination?" She whispers, the shaking sound echoing off of the hospital walls, finding Chloe's ears. She sounds tired. Exhausted. Worn down to the bone and Chloe can't help but compare the tone to the first time she came across Beca. The angry, fired up and defiant girl.

This version of her was so different. And it breaks Chloe's heart.

Frowning, Chloe wanders over to the window, dragging the curtains shut and pulling up the metal chair from the corner. She can feel Beca's eyes on her. "A figment?" She queries softly, the playful lilt in her voice pulling one corner of her mouth up as she says it. She raises her gaze to meet Beca's- who is still all red-eyed and glassy- dropping into the chair, she crosses her legs and props her elbows atop of them, cradling her head. Getting comfortable. "Why? Do you find me in your dreams often?"

The look Beca nails with her then is one of dry sarcasm and disbelief. "Are you... _hitting_ on me?"

Chloe's always found humour to be a wonderful weapon in almost any situation. That, and flirting. Naturally, she'd learnt how to mix those two together, and as a result she was often told she was eloquent. Charming. Manipulative, she'd been incriminated of being on an occasion or two. But, mostly, she'd been pegged with having been born with the gift of charisma. She'd simply fine tuned it, and with that skill aboard her arsenal, she likes to think she can use it to almost deal with anything.

In response, she bats her eyes, purposefully flirtatious. "Is it working?"

A deep crease forms between Beca's eyebrows- it makes Chloe want to close the distance and smooth it out- before the girl crosses her arms over her chest and sniffs once, sharp and unhappy. "No." She snaps, and Chloe thinks she can see a small flicker of fire from the girl she'd first met all those... well, years ago, she's sure. It makes her smile.

"That's too bad." She admits, followed by a dramatized sigh. "You're the best looking girl in a coma in this place." And it is a bit strange. She'd never felt the urge to actually hit on any of the people she'd had to come get before. But, she'd forgotten how easy it really was.

She'd _forgotten_ how satisfying it was to see the little spark, little flash of surprise behind- in this case- dark blue eyes and the minute blush colouring her cheeks. The way her face slacks and then stiffens again, those aforementioned blues narrowing in her direction. "How do you know my name?"

Chloe remembers it clearly; it was an okay thing for her to remember. The name tag. But, to say this would be, she fears, too overwhelming for Beca at the moment so she decides against it, after a moment of contemplation. "I know everything."

Beca raises her eyebrows, skeptical. "Do you?"

Chloe hums her assertion, tapping her thumbs together atop her folded hands. "I get a little pamphlet," She fabricates, now using her hands to mime the object in her hands. "Tells me all kinds of things."

"Is that so?" Chloe can't tell if she sounds annoyed or interested, or if she is just simply humouring her. It could be a combination. But she nods.

"Oh, yes." She pretends to flip a page. "Just, _basics_. Name, age, what you had for breakfast, blood type, when you lost your virginity-" Brown eyebrows somehow manage to hike higher towards her hairline. "your mother's maiden name and your peanut allergy."

"I don't have a peanut allergy." Beca says dryly, sniffing again. Chloe smacks her hands against her thighs, mouth falling open to feign surprise. She thinks Beca almost smiles.

" _No!_ " She gasps out the word, blinking frantically. "Oh, my god. I've been," Swallowing thickly, she makes a show in rising from her seat. "I've been misinformed. I've been following the wrong Beca this whole time?!" Snapping her fingers, Chloe juts her thumb in the direction of the doorframe in which she arrived. "I guess I'll go," Beca's eyes follow Chloe as she pads back across the room. "this is awfully embarrassing. And," hanging onto the frame, she twists her mouth into a pout. "disappointing. I meant what I said about you being the cutest girl here."

Beca's eyes roll, her head throwing back against the pillows of the cot she had stacked up to support her. The seriousness slips from Chloe's face, and she allows herself to grin again. Still using the doorframe to support her, she twists and twirls idly, watching Beca as her eyes close again. "Who are you?" When her eyes open again, they're darting to look at Chloe, imploring. "Where do you come from?"

And, it's silly. Chloe never likes to introduce herself. Hardly ever found herself in the situation where she needs to, not anymore. But here she was; seeking Beca, actively forcing herself into Beca's... afterlife. In between. Whatever- she's here and like gravity, she's drawn to her. Yet, when she asks that question, Chloe hesitates. Truth be told; she doesn't like it. She knows who she is, and so does Death, and that's all it's been and really all it needed to be ever since her passing. She'd have to get there, though, eventually. Jump a hurdle. If she expected to be here with Beca for as long as she can.

Running her tongue along her bottom lip, Chloe drops her gaze towards the crack in the linoleum just under the back right foot of Beca's cot. "I come from," She begins slowly. It's still sensitive, she's sure. And she doesn't want to scare Beca. But she's not going to lie. "I'm from the other side," She settles on, meeting Beca's gaze again with a reassuring smile, and a shrug. "So to speak."

Beca blinks at her for a few, long moments. Expression unreadable. Chloe finds her foot tapping a rhythm against the floor, as she allows herself to sort of swing bonelessly around the frame, waiting. After all, they had all the time in the world.

"You said," Is what Beca finally breaks the silence with. "That you know what it felt like. Back at the car," She elaborates quickly, but the vague movements of her hands were slow as she spoke. "You said you know what it felt like. So, did you..?"

"Yeah." Chloe interjects quickly, willing herself not to think about it any deeper than necessary. "Yeah, I-" Blinking, she rubs the knuckle of her index finger against her nose for a moment. "I passed away."

Beca's chest rises, the hiss of a deep inhale, followed just as much by an exhale. Beca looks away from her. She thinks she hears the girl murmur something along the lines of _'oh wow'_ , and she's facing the closed window the next time she speaks. "You're..?"

"Dead." Red hair bounces in front of her face as she dips her head in a nod, dropping her head to the floor again. You'd think she'd be over it by now. She's not. Not really. "Yup." But she can let Beca think she is, which is why she smiles again, even though Beca is only looking at her from the corner of her eye. She seems almost shy now, like maybe it was a question she shouldn't have asked. Wrinkling her nose up, Chloe shrugs again. "Dead as dirt, my friend."

Beca pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, nodding along slowly. And then she's snorting, almost with humour. "We're friends now?"

Chloe's smile warms. Becomes genuine. She uses that to push herself away from the doorframe again. "Of course we're friends." Back towards the chair.

"I still don't get it," Beca admits, folding her hands in her lap, head following Chloe's journey back across the hospital room. "Like, no offence but why are you here? Why? Who-?"

This is a different kind of curiosity. Usually, when people ask her ' _why are you here?_ ' she can tell them that she's there to take them somewhere. But, there are a few things that make this time different. One being that she doesn't want to take Beca anywhere, despite what she had told Death. Second, being that she doesn't have an answer. The situation was weird enough without her admitting that she was somehow, some way, immensely entranced by her. She has a thought, secret and fleeting, that she's a paranormal stalker that has her snorting, and Beca cocks an eyebrow at her. It clues in that she hasn't yet answered. And she still doesn't have one.

"It's random." She supplies, fidgeting with the fabric of the curtain behind her. "I was randomly sent to you. And it's my responsibility to make sure that you're..." _Dead? Going to die? It's my responsibility to kill you?_ "comfortable." Because every true answer isn't very appealing to her.

"Comfortable?" Beca echoes in disbelief. Chloe doesn't blame her. "That I'm comfortable being comatose? Oh yeah, I'm really fucking stoked about that." Involuntarily, Chloe winces.

"Sorry." She responds, knotting her fingers together. "I'm not very good at my job. I know it really sucks. No one wants this."

"No." Beca concedes, jaw clenching. Her next words are heavy, and full of sadness. "But shit happens, I guess."

And after so much time passed in doing this work, she had begun to automatically slot responses- it almost felt computerized. Beca was rational, at least. A little angry, but rational. Accepting. Common among those who had spent time in a coma, or so she's found. "Yeah." She says, after a moment. "Shit happens." And Beca nods, her agreement both quiet and very loud at the same time.

"So," The girl hedges, running her hands through dark brown hair, pulling at the knots as she found them. "What happens now?"

And that's maybe the biggest question of them all.

"Let's be friends."

* * *

The idea of being friends is maybe forced, due to Chloe's proximity and the fact that there was no way for her to leave without Beca. She's just as stuck in this hospital room as the other girl was now.

She doesn't think Beca is particularly keen on being friends.

But as time, frozen as it may be- stuck in one long hour, minute, second- passed, of course they spoke. Chloe couldn't not speak. But she left sometimes, too. Not wanting to be overbearing, and all, she'd wander to the very edge of the space created for her, for them to exist. Out of Beca's hospital room, down the hall a little. She'd sit on the floor, eyes closed, and she'd try to shut down for a little while. But it was nothing like the black nothingness that existed in between jobs.

It was much more difficult to shut down, she's discovered, when she can feel her body. Chloe thinks it's a phantom heartbeat, because there's no real reason for her heart to be beating, after all, but she's not sure how this all works, anyway. All she knows is that when she tucks her knees to her chest and rests her head on top of them, eyes shut and trying to disappear for a while, she can't. Not when she can feel that thump, that treacherous little reminder pumping away behind ribs and lungs that expand, with each automatic, albeit completely unnecessary breath. Not with the cold tile beneath her and the wall at her back. These are all things she'd been without during her semi-existence.

She wills herself to sleep when she wanders to this corner, but it's no longer something she can do.

And with every steady thump, thump, thump taunting her in her chest, in her wrists, her ears, her neck, she begins to resent it more.

"I'm not alive." She whispers to herself, face burrowed deep into her knees as she feels the pumping reverberate through the tops of her kneecaps into her cheeks. "I'm not alive. I'm not alive."

And she's never forgotten that. She doesn't fear she will. This is not what the mantra is about; it's about remembering. Everything is about remembering. She doesn't want to remember what it feels like.

"I'm not alive."

This place is a whole different kind of nightmare. But she gives Beca space. She knows she needs it.

Chloe knows this ends only one of two ways. And she shouldn't feel bad about either.

"I'm not alive."

* * *

"How long do you think it's been?" Beca asks her one day. Or, it must be a day. It's all one long day, even though it feels like it's been weeks. And, it has. They just wouldn't know it.

Looking up from the sheet of Mad Libs she'd found after rummaging through the desk in the hospital room- a conniption caused by Chloe, about three minutes after an existential breakdown in the hallway- she blinks at Beca. What she had asked the girl in the cot was for a Noun, followed by an Adjective. She'd gotten a question in return.

Placing the pencil in her lap, balancing it against her thighs and setting the Mad Lib face-down on top of it, Chloe ponders the question. "Three weeks?" And then she remembers what Death had told her, before he'd sent her here. That Beca had already been in a coma for thirteen days. "Five weeks." She corrects herself, after a moment, but doesn't specify why.

Drumming her fingers against the metal structure of the cot, Beca looks out the window. They usually keep the curtains closed. Today, they'd opened them. "I wish it would rain."

Following her line of sight, Chloe observes the scenery. It was always the same. Not even a bird would fly by. Just grass in front of the hospital, and then a street, and buildings. The same cars always on the street. The same piece of litter always on the grass. "I wish the sun would go down." She responds, and Beca snorts.

"Me too." Chloe's about to prompt for the Noun and Adjective again, but Beca exhales heavily through her nose. "There are people who are in comas forever, aren't there?"

She thinks there are. "I think so."

Beca frowns. Shaking her head, she brings one hand up to scratch at her forehead. "Hooker. Fuzzy." Unfazed, Chloe picks the booklet back up, continuing her dutiful recording of Beca's words of choice in the designated spots. She asks for a Place next. "Wisconsin." Beca replies, not missing a beat. "If I'm here like, forever," she adds on slowly, eyes peeking at Chloe from their corners, before dropping back down to where she was picking at a loose thread on the hospital blanket. "Does that mean you're here forever, too?"

And that makes her heart do an annoying little jump, and she falters, pencil squiggling slightly around the curve of the 'S'. Glancing up, she finds Beca's eyes. They have some kind of pleading to them. If Beca was here forever, until her physical self was ninety-four and her heart stops, for good- Chloe thinks she might be happy to spend the time here with her, if that's what the girl wanted. But, she's not so sure Death would like that. "I guess so." Is her middle-ground, and she finishes the word slowly. She asks for another Noun, and a Number.

"You leave sometimes." Beca says it like it's some kind of observation. The somewhat hollow, but no less honest implication that reminds Chloe of something as simple as saying that the grass outside needs to be watered. Chloe looks up again, blinking at those dark blues that find her own.

Because honestly, Beca had never come looking for her when she left. That's okay though. As much as she hated being alone, she thinks she might need it as much as Beca did.

"I don't go far." She tries to smile then, awkwardly tapping the eraser side of the pencil against the paper.

"You wouldn't leave?" And there's something else small in vulnerable in between the spaces of those three words. Chloe's hand stills. Beca's hand stills from where it had been absently working the thread. Chloe can't make any promises. She shakes her head, eyes not leaving Beca's for a second.

"No."

Beca, maybe pacified, nods her head once. Pulling her gaze away from Chloe as she does so, staring right back down at that thread. And then she's laughing. Under her breath, to herself, as she meets Chloe's gaze again. "What if we run out of Mad Libs?"

It's infectious. Maybe her laughter if borne from the hysterical realization that this could very well be it for her- but it's infectious none the less. "We're fucked, then." Chloe concedes, snaring her bottom lip between her teeth.

Rubbing the corner of her eye with her knuckle, Beca answers her between bursts of laughter. There are tears in her eyes. Chloe isn't sure what kind, but that's okay. "Feather duster. Sixteen."

It's the last space. Chloe sets the pencil against her lap, and, clearing her throat, recites.

"There is a carnival down near the _Dumpster_ , where a _Smelly, Fat Ape_ works for the _Angry Wasp-Man_ ,"

"Hey- wait." Beca interrupts, and, with mock exasperation, Chloe eyes her from under her brow. "I don't know your name. You've never told me."

There is a very real chance that Beca could wake up at any time. The thought sends something near a clusterfuck of panic flapping it's wings in her chest and gut. Which is- really just great, considering she doesn't want Beca to die, and selfishly enough, the thought of her living seems just as horrible. And this place is horrible, too. It all is.

"Chloe." She says it because she knows, honest and true, that if Beca wakes up she won't ever see her again. She might not even be remembered.

* * *

She knows the terrible and secret fate of all living things.

She knows that you can't remember anything from your passed lives. Knows that there is, in fact, a life after death. Knows that after death, you wake up and you always will- with an exception or two, in her case. She knows that everything, in the grand scheme of things; is small, and meaningless. Because there's no say in what happens to you next and there's no way to change what has already happened.

Knows that in life, time is linear. A line, running from birth to death. Some longer than others. In this place- be it a dimension or whatever it may be- that's not the case. Eternity stretches out.

But she knows it's just a circle to Death.

"I am not alive." She whispers to herself, teeth digging into the flesh of her wrist after she says it, just for a moment. She thinks she's been alone now long enough. Maybe it was supposed to be a day. She goes back to Beca.

* * *

It's another day with the blinds shut. Chloe has her chair dragged now to the bedside, it had slowly gotten closer to the cot in the weeks since she arrived. She's not sure how, but it ended up there.

"I don't think I'm going to wake up." Beca admits, breaking the silence. They hadn't been talking. The conversation had since lulled, and as per Beca's insistence, they were really taking their time with making it through the Mad Libs book, even though Chloe pointed out that it was pencil, and they could always erase the words written and start again.

That snaps Chloe's head around to stare at the girl, searching her face for anything other than resign. She wasn't finding much. "Why would you say that?"

Beca shrugs. "I just feel it."

"People wake up from comas after years," she insists, even though it hurts her a little to say it. "it happens all the time." Beca says nothing, just sighs heavily through her nose and turns her head away, observing the same room for the millionth time. Tentatively, Chloe scooches in her seat, hand coming up to rest on the metal bar.

Touching Beca is something she's been avoiding. First of all, she doesn't want to be pushy or imposing, but secondly, she remembers how it felt when she'd helped Beca out of the car. The bizarre reaction her body had had to it, and the influx rush of emotions that had come with it.

She doesn't let it deter her this time, though. Beca looks too sad.

Reaching out, Chloe's fingertips barely graze against the skin at the top of Beca's hand. But it's enough for her. To feel the warm, soft skin beneath her own, and Beca blows a train of air out of her mouth as she turns back to face Chloe, eyes frantically dropping to where their hands barely met, and back to Chloe's face. Beca's eyes are quickly growing glassy, she thinks, and it's difficult to watch that happen without feeling the telltale pinpricks behind her own. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Chloe works it for a moment, averting her gaze from Beca's and opting instead to stare at the ceiling. Attempt to keep those tears from flowing their way to the surface. "Either way," She continues after a moment, releasing the captured lip from where her teeth had been gnawing at it, and meeting the look again. "I'm here." She dares not tack _'I promise'_ onto the end of that sentiment, although she almost had. She just can't promise anything.

Beca's smile is watery, and she sort of smiles, using her free hand to wick away the single tear that fell from her eye. The sight twists Chloe's chest a little bit, but she says nothing. She focuses on the featherlight touch under her fingertips, and she thinks she can feel her heartbeat in them. She smothers the feeling by pressing her fingers downward, reaching for Beca's hand and maneuvering it at the wrist, turning her palm up and intertwining their fingers together. Now she's not sure if the heartbeat is hers or Beca's. She decides it's Beca's.

"How did you die?" Beca's voice slices through the air, and Chloe's vision blurs for a moment. It's not a question she'd been asked. It's one she has, granted, considered may be asked of her on more than one instance since she had arrived here with Beca, but she never expected it to be. She prayed it wouldn't be. She also, however, imagined herself to be a little bit more prepared when and if it was questioned. That's not the case.

Because suddenly her mouth is dry, tongue cementing to the top of her mouth and her eyes lose focus on everything real in a moment of inward reflection. Beca might say something else, but Chloe doesn't really hear it, if she does.

Her mouth flounders and she carefully tries to get ahold of her thoughts, and organize them. She needs time to compartmentalise. Separate the facts, and snip away the ties to memories; dissect them so that they are as straight-laced and grey, but no less real, as possible.

It takes her a moment to realize she's making some kind noncommital vowel noise. "Uh." She cuts herself off, that heart hammering in her ears, and she uses the hand not entangled in Beca's to rub at the skin of her neck. "It's," She begins, although she hasn't had the time to get the bullet-points in order. "I, it's... I just um," Beca blinks at her, and brown hair falls around her face as she slowly begins to shake her head. Chloe doesn't really notice.

"You don't have to tell me if you aren't ready." Beca says, she thinks, but even that seems disconnected and her minds already running on a few hundred miles per hour, so by the time she hits the brakes, the words she'd decided on are already rushing from her mouth.

"I just kind of slipped up." That's when Beca's words make sense and she presses her lips together the moment before a small, sheepish smile appears on her face.

"Slipped?" Beca repeats, although _slipped_ is not the exact word Chloe had been looking for so it's not entirely correct. "Like, down the stairs?" It's a joke that time, and a surprised burst of laughter bubbles out of her lungs. She presses the hand that had been irritating the skin of her neck against her mouth to hide the smile that grows there, because Chloe thinks it might be stupidly wide, and stupidly bright. In response to that sound, however, Beca's smile might grow just as wide and her eyes twinkle with mirth. "Because like, that would be a really embarrassing way to die, dude. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to fess up to that one." Dropping the hand from her mouth, Chloe shakes her head. There's a heat radiating in her cheeks that she can feel, and Beca's eyebrows arch upwards in glee. "You're blushing!" She squeals. "Oh, my god, you fell down the stairs!"

"I didn't!" Chloe insists, but then stops herself. "Well, I mean, obviously I have before but that's not how I _died_."

"Wait wait wait wait," Beca stops her, that free hand coming palm up in the universal sign to _'stop_ '. She then turns it down so that nothing but her index finger is up ' _one second'_. And then, she taps said finger against her chin thoughtfully. "I totally got this," Regarding Chloe, the brunette girl narrows her eyes, lips twisting around. "Your dad was a doctor, and your mom was something like, a lawyer. Or maybe an accountant."

Chloe goes for her best poker-face. She'd let Beca have her fun. She wouldn't correct anything she got wrong.

"You had this big, expensive house, with a big, _grandiose_ staircase. You know, the kind that wraps around some luxurious front foyer," Chloe hums her understanding, lips twitching. "and they're not made out of your typical wood. Maybe they're marble or something."

"And those are the stairs I fell down?" Beca nods.

"Yeah. Those are the stairs you fell down."

"You've really got this thought out." She teases, raising one eyebrow in challenge. "Was I an only child?"

"Oh, _yeah_." Beca nods again. "Definitely."

Smiling, Chloe leans forward, narrowing her eyes at the girl in the bed. Sighing, she lifts their entwined hands up, propping her elbows on the metal bar and wrapping her second hand around them. There was a clamminess in her palm, but she couldn't possibly be bothered by it. "Okay. Two can play at this game," Beca scoffs, faux challenging. "You... Grew up middle class. Maybe upper middle class."

Beca shrugs, as though to indicate that she wouldn't be affirming anything Chloe was saying.

"Your dad is a," She thinks for a moment on this. Remembers everything she knows about Beca, tries to think about every single little thing that made her, _her_. Every meeting. "Business-man." She decides on. "Your mom is a nurse, or maybe she's a teacher. You're an only child." That's one she's pretty confident with. When she'd first told Beca that she was dying- she'd talked about her father, and her... _boyfriend_. Not her mother or siblings. "But, maybe your parents divorced when you were young." Beca's eyes widen, and then narrow. _Bingo_. She thinks about the girl she met a long time ago, thick with eyeliner and angry. "And I bet you hated high-school."

Beca clucks her tongue, throwing Chloe a look from the corner of her eye. "I bet you loved high-school."

And Chloe just shrugs, as though to indicate that she wouldn't affirm anything Beca was saying.

* * *

"Know what I would kill for?" Chloe is the one to break the silence this time. It's a blinds open day. She sitting with her knees to her chest in the metal chair, watching Beca meander around the room, stretching her legs and lazily rummaging through the cabinets and cupboards in the room that they'd rummaged through multiple times already. Beca turns to face her, she's got one hand resting against the sink in the room, the cupboard above it wide open.

"What?" She asks, mouth pulling into a grin. Subconsciously, Chloe mimics it.

"A chocolate chip cookie, fresh from the oven." Beca makes some kind of small moan. "Right! Or like, some sushi."

"Know what _I'd_ kill for?" Turning back to the cabinet, the girl starts shuffling a few things around.

"What?" Chloe answers just as fast.

"A big, greasy cheeseburger."

Chloe throws her head back. She couldn't even remember the last thing she'd eaten if she tried.

* * *

"My boyfriend," Two words Chloe knew were coming, eventually, but she still finds herself with an odd, sticky feeling in her gut when Beca says them. Chloe's sitting Pocahontas style at the foot of Beca's cot, and her fingers absently find their way to the loose thread Beca picks at so often. "We'd been dating for four years," Beca had also recently began speaking of things in past, instead of present tense. Chloe's noticed. She isn't sure how to feel about it, so she says nothing about it. "He's like, the biggest dork in the whole world. We met in university, and he like, forced me to watch movies with him. I never liked movies-"

"You never liked movies?" Chloe gasps, brows furrowing together. "Who doesn't like movies?"

"That's what he said!" Beca almost sounds exasperated, but she rolls her eyes, and continues with a smile. "But, like, I got used to liking movies. Well, not _liking_ them, but watching them and not pouting and complaining the whole time because I could see that kind of bummed him out. So, I just taught myself to be okay with them." Chloe nods, she gets that. Can see where Beca's coming from. Beca sighs, tucking the loose strands of hair from either side of her face behind her ears. "I'm starting to think maybe I had just taught myself to like him, too." It's not what she expects to hear. Her brow knits together, she can feel it, and there is the bizarre, distant sense that this is the first boy-talk she's had in a very long time. It reminds her being in high-school again, similarly sitting at the foot of Aubrey's bed or whoever it was that she happened to be with at the time. It reminds her just how difficult anything that has to do with love is.

Something, she thinks, she might be remembering too well when she sees the sunlight reflect off of the blues and steel grey's of Beca's eyes.

"Don't get me wrong-" Beca is quick to correct herself, one hand coming up to press against her own chest, over her heart. "I love him, I do. But I think about it, and I just... I don't think we were really right for one another. Something that I think," She blinks frantically, shaking her head. "should have been so clear to me, but I think I convinced myself that just because he was a nice guy, and he really liked me, that I should really like him, too. Even though we wanted totally different things."

"That makes sense." Softly, Chloe rests her hand against Beca's foot under the blanket. "I think that happens to a lot of people."

Beca nods, lilting her head from side to side thoughtfully. She's not crying. Her eyes aren't glassy. She doesn't cry much anymore, even when she talks about the difficult things. It kind of makes Chloe's chest swell with pride, for some reason. "Do you... Did you, have a boyfriend?" Beca's eyes widen then, and she hastily adds. "Or girlfriend?"

Chuckling, she squeezes Beca's foot in a show of silent reassurance. "No." She then says, after a moment. "No boyfriends, not when I passed away." And then she winks at Beca, patting the foot beneath the blanket. "Or girlfriends."

"Did you ever..." Beca hedges after a moment, watching Chloe's hand at her foot. "have girlfriends? Are you a girlfriend kind of girl?" And then she's grinning, like maybe she's nervous or maybe she's inwardly cringing at the way she delivered the question. Chloe honestly doesn't mind.

Snorting, Chloe pinches the shape of one of the toes she finds. Beca shrieks, retracting her foot back into herself. "You are such a dork!" Chloe crows, giggling. "No, I never had a girlfriend."

"I was just asking!" Tucking her knees to her chest, Beca rests her cheek atop of them, staring at Chloe sideways. Eyes darting around, one brow dipping inwards.

"Why?" Chloe questions, some devious little creature at her back prompting her to recall how much fun it was to tease Beca this way. "Would it make you anxious if I was a girlfriend kind of girl?"

"No." Beca scoffs, turning her nose towards the ceiling. "I'm not a total dick."

She's glad. Because she kind of thinks, if the circumstances were different, she might be a _'Beca_ ' kind of girl.

Or maybe the circumstances don't matter.

* * *

"I am not alive." It's starting to sound less convincing every time.

Her fingers are pulling apprehensively at the hem of her shirt, her pants, at any fabric, anything. With increasing agitation. Because every time she shuts her eyes, she sees dark blues and she sees brown hair and a happy, fleeting smile. And she can't disappear- or try to- if she can't close her eyes.

A dangerous thing to happen because the darkness that was her solace for so long had become nothing but persistent, but deeply buried feeling that something was missing. Something that was only a few steps away, really.

Peeling the skin from her lips, Chloe nestles her head into the crook of her arm, curling into herself. Wishing, for once, maybe she could be in the sensory tank for just a little while. So that she could rest. "I. Am. Not. _Alive._ " With every word, she gently knocks her head into her arms.

The faithful _thump, thump, thump_ of her heart tries to trick her otherwise.

And she is not, will not, dare think of the 'L' word and correlate it to Beca.

"I am not alive." Her hands are shaking.

* * *

"So, are you like a ghost?" Beca asks her another time they have the blinds shut. Chloe had been trying to explain the space she usually exists in. "Ghosts are real?"

"I'm not a ghost," Chloe presses her hand to her chest, blinking earnestly. This subject does happen to get a little hazy. "A ghost is someone who's dead, but, we don't get to them in time."

Beca wrinkles her nose. They're managing to squeeze onto the cot, both of them, laying side by side with their fingers overlapping in the space between them. It's making that bump in Chloe's chest beat against her ribs a bit harder. "I thought you got everyone."

Her curiosity is endearing. Everything about her is, really. Even when she's sad. "Usually, it's really uncommon for us not to. But, it happens, I guess."

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means someone like you." Chloe shrugs, because in all honesty, she's no expert. She and Death had never had an in depth conversation about it, but she has just picked up a few pieces of knowledge here and there. "But... just wandering. Forever."

"You can't get to them after?" Imploringly, Beca sort of rolls herself to her side, using one hand to prop her head up as she searches Chloe's expression. Which is, probably, uncertain.

"No, they're already gone." And she watches the way Beca's eyes roam her face for a moment, lazily moving from eye to eye. Seeking. And then, she frowns.

"That's sad."

"Yeah."

"So," The girl blinks, slipping her other hand out from under Chloe's and brushing her nose with her knuckle. "If you're here, does that mean," And replaces it atop of Chloe's this time. "that there's no life after death?"

"There is." She assures her, just before her breath hitches in her throat as the thumb of Beca's hand makes lazy, thoughtless strokes across her skin. "It's just not for everyone."

Quirking a brow, Beca's mouth twitches in amusement. "Playing the mystery card, are you?"

Smirking, Chloe replies with a nonchalant little nod of her head and a shrug, pursing her lips together. She's glad Beca takes it as a joke, and therefore she won't press. Because in reality, Chloe just doesn't really want to talk about it all that much. But when Beca starts humming _'The X-Files'_ theme under her breath, Chloe smacks her on the thigh with her hand and that somehow only encourages Beca to do it louder. Pulling her hand out from under Beca's, she presses it firmly against Beca's mouth, giggling as the girl doesn't falter for a moment, the hum reverberating against the skin of her hand.

"Stop!" Chloe insists through laughter, and the skin on her cheeks feels like it's at risk of splitting open. Beca then says something through the muffled hand that sounds a lot like ' _I can't hear you!_ ' before the tune continues. Bringing the opposite hand up, Chloe pinches at the spot she had previously smacked and the girl shrills from under her hand before the flat, wet surface of a tongue slathers her palm. Gasping, Chloe pulls away. "Ew, _Beca_!" She scolds, pinching the spot again and Beca writhes, even though she's just about in hysterics. Chloe's too happy to be really mad, and so she gives the girl her best dirty look before wiping the saliva back on Beca's cheek.

"Stop pinching!" The brunette demands, fruitlessly slapping at Chloe's wrist. Relinquishing her grip on Beca's thigh, Chloe rolls back over to the side of the cot she had been inhabiting beforehand. Breathless. In her periphery, she can see Beca eyeing her, a smile against her lips despite the assault she had just endured.

"No one told me I'd get to have friends in a coma."

And it's really a testament to how far they've come, Chloe thinks. She raises her brows at Beca. "Friends, plural?" Inky blues roll in their sockets.

"Friend." And then there's a silence. "I feel like I've known you a really long time."

That stokes something in Chloe's gut. Because suddenly she's warm. "Yeah," She admits. "Me too." Although, for her it's a little bit different. "Who knows how long it's been though."

* * *

It's not long after that that Chloe fesses up.

"We've met once before, you know."

Beca looks up from where she'd been resting her head on the pillows, craning her neck over her shoulder to watch Chloe near the window. "Yeah," She punctuates it with a long, slow blink. "At the car."

Chloe shakes her head. "No. Before that." Beca's brows pull together. She sits up. "You almost died once before." She doesn't ask it, because she knows. Beca pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and hugging them close to her body.

"When I... when I got alcohol poisoning and they pumped my stomach?"

Chloe nods, running one hand along the windowsill and collecting the layers of dust on her fingers. "Yeah. Well, at the house. Not here," She gestures to the hospital, before smiling a crooked kind of smile. "We met at your house."

The confusion settles itself on Beca's features, and she just blinks for a few moments, eyes occasionally dropping to the floor, or a far corner of the room. "You met me then?"

Chloe nods again. "You woke up, and you thought I was robbing you."

"I don't remember that."

And now her head shakes in the opposite direction. "You never do." But then she laughs to herself, recalling the encounter. "You were so mad. I was trying to get you to come with me, and you were all like ' _what the fuck_ '. That's how I knew your name."

"Go with you?" Beca queries, her foot stiffening from where socked-feet were tapping against the bed. "Go where?"

And that... is a little bit of a slip up. "Well," She wrings her hands in front of her body, before throwing them up into the air helplessly. "You were supposed to be dead, so... the other side, so to speak. But you were so stubborn that you lived." And now she beams. But, Beca's face manages to drop.

"And now I'm dead, or dying again, in a coma."

Chloe's not sure what to say to that, other than to nod her head. Beca's eyes wander away from her. She just lets her feet take her forwards, and she steps up onto the cot beside the girl, and Beca scoots to accomodate her. "What happened then, anyway?"

Beca laughs a little, under her breath, and throws her head back on her shoulders to look at Chloe. "It's stupid. Just was a big mistake, that's all. Definitely wouldn't have died with much dignity that time."

Chloe almost asks her if this time would be any better, before she remembers that Beca is still alive, and she will most definitely not be taking this girl anywhere. Instead, she bumps her shoulder lightly against Beca's and quips, "At least you didn't fall down the stairs." And Beca laughs.

"Yeah, _klutz_." The smile slips from her face quickly though, and she shakes her head. "I wish I could remember that." And then she's looking at Chloe again, inhaling deeply through her nose. "Maybe that's why I feel like I've known you so long."

Before she can look at Beca's lips for too long, Chloe drags her eyes away. "Maybe."

She thinks, that if Beca wakes up, she'll be a different kind of ghost.

* * *

When she's alone, it's hard to keep her thoughts from straying. Getting harder every time.

"I am not alive."

She can't even believe her own truth.

* * *

"Crow. Dubai."

Chloe fills in the appropriate spots. She's got a pillow tucked under her head, at the foot of Beca's cot, with her feet resting next to Beca, who sat cross-legged across from her. It had been a long time since her confession to Beca, and she'd filled in the girl with as many details about their first meeting as she could. Sometimes, Beca would ask her again about the circumstances of her own death, and every time, Chloe felt a little bit closer to telling her, but never did. She knew she couldn't, which maybe wasn't fair to Beca, but she doesn't trust herself.

Biting her tongue between her teeth, Chloe finishes the dot on the 'i' and asks for another two Nouns and a Verb.

"I think I'm in love with you."

She wishes there was a working clock somewhere in her line of sight, so she could watch the way the hands moved. Understand just how many seconds pass between the words leaving Beca's mouth, and for her to be able to move her abruptly stiff limbs. To set the Mad Libs pamphlet down against her stomach, and blink over at Beca, who was staring right back. Expression torn somewhere between apprehension and anticipation.

Chloe's hardrive feels like it has been wiped clean. For once, she can't find the beat of her heart anywhere in her body. There are words, somewhere within her- she knows this. She knows she has a great understanding of the English language, and she knows that there are words available to her to appropriately convey her feelings back. She's just managed to drop the key, or something, leaving her only response to be a dipping brow, and a mouth that falls open.

Chloe can't believe she's hearing those words. She'd contemplated the horrible, terrible problem of her potentially being in love with Beca, or perhaps just infatuated. She's never even fantasized about Beca saying those words to her.

"You think you're in love with me?" Is what she finally finds, the gears beginning to gain momentum inside her head once more.

Beca's face slackens, gaze dropping towards her feet. She fidgets with her socks. "I think I might be, yeah."

And she needs to sort things out.

She is the only person Beca has seen, and has had contact with, in what must be months. So this could very well be confusion. Borne from isolation and proximity, and the crushing sense that maybe she wouldn't have to die alone. And, really, no one wants to die alone.

Chloe thinks she might have been in love with Beca from the first time they'd met. She'd been convinced it was something more after she'd found out she'd been to Barden, she was a Bella. The odds seemed too slim to be anything near just a coincidence.

These two potential kinds of love were very different, if either of them were experiencing anything close to the real thing. It could be nothing more than imagination and co-dependency.

Any caution flies out the door when Beca pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, whatever hope she had slowly dripping from her eyes. Exhaling, Chloe sits up, watching the way Beca's eyes follow her every movement like a hawk, and the way they drop. It takes a big wooden spoon to all of Chloe's organs and stirs them around, that look. "I think I might be, too." And it also makes her forget about her thoughts from before. She'd take this over nothing. Love be damned, if it isn't the real thing deep down. At least there's this.

Beca's lips twitch into a grin, teeth poking out. "Yeah?"

And there it is, the vibration of her heart roaring in her ears and making her toes tingle. Her eyes land on Beca's lips for a moment, on her smile, and then she's smiling too. "Yeah."

The relief is a tangible wave coming from Beca. "Oh, coo-"

She wraps one hand around the back of Beca's neck, the other racing to grip Beca by the collar of her hospital shirt. It's a little sloppy- she's a little out of practice, but the second lips meet, there's a crescendo swelling in her chest, ready to burst. She can feel Beca's shock, but that dissipates in a moment, and Chloe is met with something perhaps just as desperate.

And she knows it's desperate. Can feel it in the rush of it, in the way teeth collide once, or twice, in the way Beca takes absolutely no time running her tongue along the bottom of her lip, and Chloe allows her. At the edge of her senses, she can hear the Mad Libs book fall to the floor. She can feel Beca's hands roam her back, her neck, shoulders- she can feel her own nails dig into the skin of Beca's neck, and the result being the cool huff of air from Beca's sharp inhale. But mostly, nothing else exists except for Beca, and her hands coming up to cup at Chloe's cheeks, holding her steady as her tongue explores lips.

 _I am alive_ , she thinks.


	4. Chapter 4

**I just wanted to say thank you for all the support this story has gotten so far. It's amazing. Thank you. There will be one final chapter after this.**

* * *

Time lapses like it usually does. Slow, yet all at once.

The confessional has really changed nothing about them. Of course, there's more kissing. Physical touch, the likes of which Chloe had strictly forbade herself of, become common occurences.

Laying side by side in Beca's cot on a blinds open kind of day- days in which are decided, mutually, by the both of them- with Beca's head resting against Chloe's shoulder while the silence covers them. Not uncomfortable. No, it's the kind of silence that is warm, and it hugs Chloe tightly from all sides; makes her heart pound against her ribs so hard sometimes, that it scares her. Terrifies her.

With her hands wrapped up in Beca's, risen slightly above her own head, just so she can observe. Among the silence, when the quiet is far too soothing to disturb- she'll play with Beca's hands within her own. The sunlight that glints, ever so slightly, off of fingernails. The small birthmark on the inside of her ring finger on her right hand. The scar over her thumb that had, apparently, been the result of a bike accident as a child- and just below it, another that came from a mishap with an especially unfriendly cat.

Minute details that consume Chloe. Eat her from the inside out. Make her chest flutter with the wings of thousands of butterflies- monarchs- and sometimes, in the base of her gut, she can feel the uncomfortable writhings of all of those little caterpillars when she remembers that this might not last. That this is not everything. This cannot _become_ everything.

Even though it already has.

And that thought torches every insect where it is, burns her- tightens her throat and her chest simultaneously in a swallowed moment of panic. Choked down because she refuses to ever show Beca any single sign that she doesn't have one-hundred-ten percent faith in this.

And Beca says she likes the freckles on Chloe's shoulders, and the ladybug tattoo on her wrist. She especially likes the scar on Chloe's forehead, to which, Chloe blushes and finds herself running a finger over it absently. She knows it requires a story.

It's the first story she manages to tell.

"Dog." She responds simply, with an easy laugh and a roll of her eyes. "Knocked me over and I crashed into the concrete head-first, because I have absolutely no regard for personal safety." The most watered down she can deliver it, with a joke wedged in to fill the uncomfortable space that may be created had she been asked to specify. _Who's_ dog, _what_ happened, how _old_ she was. But Beca laughs, and her eyes twinkle, and she is entirely absorbed and satisfied with the supply of information.

Chloe has become very good at giving just the right amount.

With the hospital shirt pushed up to a ball of fabric over Beca's chest, bare stomach exposed and heaving, Chloe makes sure to tell her that she likes the little freckle next to her naval, and the parallel lines that run up her torso and under the waistband of her pants. Chloe makes sure to run her hand flat over her stomach, soaking in every inch of warmth beneath her. Taking it all in. She makes sure Beca's writhing under the touch of fingertips before she pulls away. And midnight-blues dart around frantically, cheeks flushed and lips swollen; a sight that has a pendulum swinging in the base of Chloe's stomach.

Other times, Beca will press her index finger to Chloe's lips, effectively shushing Chloe from whatever it was they'd been speaking about. She'd try to count the blues in Chloe's eyes or she'd just have to kiss her, quick and tender.

* * *

"You were right," She says one day- blinds closed, hugging a pillow to her chest and staring at Chloe from over the tops of her knees. Chloe blinks. She's settled in the metal chair, pulled up to the desk where she'd been refiling through a Dictionary, boredom beginning to weigh in on her.

"About what?" She furrows her brow, idly tossing the book back onto the surface of the desk.

"About almost everything," Beca shrugs then, and Chloe shakes her head.

"I still don't-"

"I grew up upper-middle class." Beca recites, nodding along to herself, eyes gleaming. "My mom was a first-grade teacher. I'm an only child, and I _hated_ high-school." Then, she lolls her head around on her shoulders thoughtfully. "Except, my dad was actually an English Proffessor at Barden."

Barden. It had been a topic Chloe had been meaning to get around to for a while now.

Beca just shakes her head at her, a smile breaking out over her face as she continues. "How did you do it? Did you really know all of that before?"

Tapping her thumbs together, Chloe watches the look on Beca's face. The awe. "I've just always had a knack for knowing people." It's easy to say because it's the truth. She hadn't always prided herself in her judge of character, but she'd gotten better.

The younger girl rests her head on her knees, still beaming. "Really?"

That smile pulls her forward; off of the chair and towards the cot. "Yeah," Shrugging, she hops up next to Beca. Pulling the remaining pillow from behind Beca, she mirrors the girl's position, tucking it firmly against her abdomen and bringing her knees to her chest. "Just like, a gift, I guess."

"Huh." Beca twists her head, cheek against knees and staring at Chloe sideways. In the moment before she speaks, her eyes crinkle. "Was I right about you?"

The next few moments pass in counts of three.

 _Don't tell her, don't tell her, don't tell her._ Move the lock of hair falling in front of her face, instead.

One, two, three; try not to get lost in those eyes.

Her hand brushes against Beca's ear. She moves it, brings it around to the back of the girl's neck and brings their faces together. So close, that Chloe can feel the phantom touch of her lips against Beca's as she finally finds the words to respond. "You're a really terrible guesser." And then she closes the space.

"Am I?" Beca asks, breathless, in between kisses. Chloe nods.

"Just the worst." Murmured against the corner of Beca's mouth, before she takes a hand and gently shoves the girl backwards onto the cot. She is beginning to find that physicality is maybe the biggest form of distraction now, and she uses it. As often as she needs to.

They never go far. Not because Chloe isn't interested, because she is- she _really_ is when Beca's chest is heaving and her lower lip is pinched between her teeth- it really is a bizarre re-discovery of libido, especially when she had previously thought that part of herself had gone the way of the dinosaurs. It's just that Chloe isn't entirely sure she's ready for it. In those few split, contemplative seconds, it's hard enough not to choke on her own swell of emotions with nothing more than the thought about what could possibly be about to happen.

That alone is enough to ward her off until further notice. That's why when it gets that far, she'll pat a dazed Beca on the cheek and roll away, resuming whatever mundane, redundant time-killer activity she'd been performing beforehand.

And they may have all the time in the world as far as Chloe knows, but she's just as aware there's an expiry date on that little stunt every time she uses it. There's a fuse burning in Beca, and Chloe is certain it will eventually go off.

* * *

"Not alive."

Shaking her head, Chloe paces the four steps between walls in the hallway. Back and forth.

Beca makes her alive.

Resurrects everything- every emotion. She is in love with the feeling. With Beca.

That is a very big problem.

"Not alive."

She doesn't leave that often anymore. And when she does, it's not for long. Actually, Chloe is surprised Beca hasn't found her yet, and discovered that her ' _leave_ ' really isn't much of one. She hopes it stays that way, because this solidarity is something that Chloe needs to keep her head screwed on straight.

* * *

"I feel bad for Amy." Beca sighs, heavy and discontent. Chloe's hand stalls where it had been routinely braiding brown locks. She scans her memory for any recollection of the name; finds a few matches, remembers a few stories that involve the name, but can't pinpoint who it belonged to.

"Your friend, right?" She asks, hands coming to work again. Pulling locks over and under. The head beneath her hands nods. "From in the car?"

"Yeah." Chloe clucks her tongue, recalling the blonde woman in the driver's seat. "She's going to think... she probably already does think that it's her fault I'm dead."

"You're not dead." She counters immediately, more sharply than she'd intended to, and it comes from some unknown place within her that is brimming with irritation. " _I'm_ dead." It hits her like a white-hot stoking iron in the pit of her belly, but the second it's pulled away, there's guilt cooling her down.

Beca stiffens, and Chloe drops her hands heavily from her hair. She draws the corner of her lip into her mouth, an apology jumping to the tip of her tongue, but a fact is a fact. Beca _isn't_ dead. She _could_ be- in a matter done as easily as offering up her hand and oh, she can imagine it now; " _do you want to see where I go when I leave?_ " and Beca would follow her without question.

She wouldn't do that, though. This leaves them here. This leaves Beca with the possibility of waking up any second.

And then she'd be another thing Chloe has to forget.

"I might as well be dead." Beca mutters, defensively crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, but," Chloe makes sure her voice is soft now. Checks and holds the way it comes out, easing through every syllable. "you're not." And then she forces a flash of a smile. "And it's a _good_ thing you're not."

She can still see the rigid hold in Beca's shoulders, and she's pinching her lower lip between her canines, once again wishing for a clock to watch. She thinks she can almost hear that fuse dwindling out.

Beca scoots forward on the cot, out of Chloe's grasp, and when she reaches the far side she turns. Using her hands to twist her body around so that they're facing one another, the girl crosses her legs beneath her and sweeps Chloe with a look. One that makes her stomach do rolls similar to that of a race-car pushing one-hundred-forty miles per hour around the track, after the driver had just overcorrected them-self. Dark blues that calculate and dissect. "Bec-"

"Why don't you ever tell me anything about yourself?" It's not said particularly loudly, but it's accusatory all the same, and Chloe winces. "I tell you everything. You know everything."

There are a few things she can say in response to that. Her defense mechanism is to first find a way to work around it- subconsciously, she manipulates her way around the words. Thinks of a way out- thinks of _several_ ways out. Before she realizes she doesn't _want_ to. That it's Beca- and she doesn't _want_ to lie to Beca. Doesn't want to ever intentionally hurt her.

She doesn't want to tell the truth though, either.

She might have to.

"I don't want to talk about it." Because that's a truth- as quietly mumbled as it is.

Beca throws her hands into the air in show of helpless exasperation. Her throat strangles around some word for a moment, before she drops her hands and shakes her head. "Chloe, come on,"

And she can feel it under her skin, clawing upwards in her throat. The burning in her eyes and the force suddenly gripping her around her lungs. Can feel it in the way she feels her lip begins to quiver. "It's not the same for me as it is for you."

"Why not? What do you mean-?"

"It _hurts_." Two words that rip out of her far sharper than she ever intended. Her alarm bells are starting to ring on the inside of her skull and she can see Beca's affronted expression, only slightly distorted from the tears building in her eyes.

The girl raises her hand to her chest, incredulous. "You don't think it hurts me? To talk about my family- my _friends_?" And then she scoffs, that hand dropping back down into her lap. "Because it does. A lot."

"It's just- it's different." She tries to amend again- the equivalent of licking her fingers and trying to pinch out that little fuse before the bomb goes off.

"Why?" Beca demands again. "Enlighten me." She crosses her arms back over her chest, glaring over at Chloe from the expanse. One that felt like it was stretching. Scrutinizing her as if she simply just didn't _want to_ tell Beca.

"Because," She says through gritted teeth; with those alarms still blaring, she was trying hard to bite her tongue and keep her defense mechanisms from taking over her communication here. Because Chloe had pushed away every memory. And with being faced with the threat of opening herself back up to them- those defenses were trying their best to push away the peril of the person prying for those memories. It was a conscious effort to keep everything in check. "If you wake up," Beca raises her eyebrows. "I'm stuck here with them. And if I bring them back," Raising her hand to her head, she taps against her temple to emphasize her point. "I can't do that again. I can't be alone and remember them all."

Beca's expression softens after a beat of stubborn resilience. And then she sighs, reaching out to put her hands atop of Chloe's free one. "I'm not going to wake up."

Maybe Chloe should have been paying more attention to her own fuse. Because she thinks she can feel the moment it reaches the end of the line, deep within her chest, and then there's a red-hot kind of anger burning through her as she tears her hand away. "Stop saying that! You don't know that Beca, you think you do- but you don't! You have no say in it. If it happens, it'll just happen. You won't even know what happened."

Beca nips her lower lip between her teeth, chest heaving with a heavy exhale. There's a timbre within Chloe; shaking her bones with an indistinguishable feeling that she fears is rage. An emotion she hasn't genuinely felt in a long time. Perhaps it was like an immune response to being pushed- to facing the frightening possibility. And there's her damn heartbeat in her ears, nearly deafening her as she watches Beca.

Beca, who after a moment, pushes herself to her feet. "I need to take a walk." She announces unceremoniously, heading towards the doorway without looking behind her. Chloe let's her go. She can't go far, anyway.

But Chloe suddenly feels like she's intruding, so she too, hops down from the cot and heads towards the chair. Because the bed was still Beca's. The chair could be hers.

And she waits. She tucks her knees to her chest and rests her forehead atop of them, trying to float away into the nothingness she knows she can't find here. Her mind wanders. It wanders for a long time. Some bitter part of her wonders if she should just take Beca now, if she's so certain she won't ever wake up. But the thought makes her sick with guilt.

* * *

Beca comes back eventually.

Chloe, of course, can't be sure how long it's been, but she had found herself impressed. She also found herself completely cooled, and having forgiven the whole thing. She'd drifted instead into apathy, but there was the stone of certainty that reminded her that things were not great. They were not going to be here forever. It _would_ come to an end.

She'd almost found the nothingness, but the pattering of feet against hospital floors had alerted her to a returned presence. She looks up. It's Beca. Who else?

Beca stands just inside the room, small and awkwardly wringing her hands in front of her body. Shy, almost. Embarrassed.

"I'm sorry we fought." The girl says meekly, blue eyes darting everywhere- unable to land on an object for longer than a moment.

Chloe feels her lips pull, just a little, into a smile. "Me too."

"I just," Beca let's her hands fall to her side, before bringing them together again. "I got to thinking and uh- I _don't_ know what it's like for you. I guess. So I mean, I guess I can kind of try to imagine where you're coming from. I know that um- sometimes, sometimes we have to forget to keep going, you know? So I uh- I shouldn't. I mean. You shouldn't have to relive those things if they cause you, uh, pain. Even though I wish you could tell me."

It's a sweet, sincere gesture from Beca. Her smile grows. "I love you."

And Beca grins sheepishly. It makes Chloe wish she could tell her, too. Tell her everything.

She still can't.

* * *

They fall back into normal. Chloe still kind of feels like there is a wedge between them but she doesn't think too much about it. They play Mad Libs. They still kiss, every now and then, but Beca has typically stopped asking a lot of things that warrant a need for distractions.

It worries Chloe.

Because she does love Beca, she really does. Which is a problem, obviously. But she can't be concerned with that part of the issue when she feels like her inability to share is pushing them farther apart.

"I feel kinda funny." Beca says at one point- and that makes Chloe's heartrate spike.

"What?" She spins on heel, panic gripping her in her chest.

"Like," Beca chuckles lowly to herself. "I feel like I have gas?"

Chloe snorts, but eases immediately. As far as she knows; that's not a sign of waking up. She was more worried about hearing about a tingling sensation, or a dizziness. "Well, that's-"

Beca burps. It's loud and it startles both of them. Chloe jumps. Beca, eyes still wide, tentatively moves her hands around her throat. "Oh my god," She ushers, before bursting into laughter. "What the hell? That's a first,"

And it's infectious, because Chloe is too. She points to Beca. " _Ew!_ Of course you're the only gassy person I've had to hang out with,"

"Weird," Beca agrees, but she's still smiling through her laughter. "Well, I feel better now."

* * *

It's not long after that that Chloe finally builds the courage to speak up. She figures that something- anything- might mend the crack between them that the argument had created.

She shuffles on the foot of Beca's cot, taking a deep breath and tucking the red locks that had fallen out in front of her face back behind her ears. "So, I'm going to tell you something." She announces, glancing upwards at Beca. When they lock eyes, she looks back down at her feet.

She'd obsessed about finding something that was light. The lightest thing she could manage to tell, while it still being somewhat intimate with her. She decides on Aubrey. She decides on Bellas, because Beca's familiar with it.

"You don-" Beca starts, but Chloe makes some kind of noise of dissent to silence her.

"My best friend's name was Aubrey Posen. We went to high school together, and Bellas. She was a bit of a stickler," She smirks. "But she was ferociously loyal and she was the best friend anyone could ever ask for-"

"Hope I'm not interrupting,"

Chloe furrows her brow- because that voice was not Beca's. She recognizes it half a second later though and her stomach does a few dozen loops. Snapping her head up, she nearly gives herself whiplash as she turns to face the doorway. Beca, too, looks over; her expression is one of pure bafflement. "Who are _you_?" Beca asks, more confused than Chloe thinks she's ever heard anyone sound.

And- _shit._ He gives Chloe that look that makes her feel like a scolded school kid.

Diffident, Chloe clears her throat and gestures to the man standing in the doorway. "Beca," She states officially. "This is my boss... Death."

Beca raises her eyebrows. "You're Death?"

The man in question nods, a dazzling smile on his face. "Good to officially meet you, Beca."

"Wow, you're..." Beca blinks rapidly a few times; she has a bit of a dazed look on her face. There's probably a million things going on her head- which was the same problem Chloe was currently facing. "not as menacing as I imagined you to be?"

"Right?" Chloe adds, before turning her attention back to the man.

Beca stutters out another question. "What are you doing here... Mr. Death?"

He chuckles, waving away the formality. "Please, just Death. I'm actually here to collect Chloe, mostly." He says nonchalantly. "But I'll pick you up, too."

"Pick me up?" Beca baulks incredulously at the same moment that Chloe feels her heart break a little bit. This wasn't good. She knew it- knew it knew it knew it- that they wouldn't last forever, but she thought maybe that their limited amount of time would be a bit longer than this.

Beca wasn't getting out of here alive.

Chloe had stalled and waited around, hoping and dreading that Beca would wake up, but it wasn't going to happen. Not now.

"I'm afraid so." The man sighs, absently pulling his notepad from the pocket of his pants and crossing something off, before shoving it back in. "My co-worker Chloe here hasn't done a very good job in collecting you, but, no matter." He smiles- again, not intentionally menacing- he just can't help it. He instead throws his arms out to his sides and says through the grin. "We'll always meet, anyway."

And God damn Death and his big God damn mouth. Chloe winces, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she can the second she sees Beca's gaze fly in her direction.

" _Collect_ me?" Beca repeats slowly, the spear of accusation hovering under the words.

"Uh." Chloe croaks helplessly, carefully opening one eye to glance between the girl and the deity in front of her. The deity almost looks uncomfortable that he's caught up in the situation.

That makes two of them.

"The first time you met me- at my house, when I got alcohol poisoning," Beca rehashes, an upheaval of emotions clouding her voice. From anger to confusion to sadness. "You said you were there to take me with you, you told me that's why you came. Are you- were you supposed to do that this time, too?"

"Well, I... um... yeah- I guess I mean- I was _supposed_ to but-"

" _But_?" Beca growls from beside her and Chloe shrinks a little more.

"I didn't want you to die so I didn't?"

"That's the only reason you came? Because you were _supposed_ to-?"

"No! No I didn't have to," Chloe raises her hands in defense. "I couldn't stop thinking about you so I asked." The admission causes Beca's features to fall a little bit, but there's still a fury burning cold behind those blue eyes. Chloe immediately turns on Death- before this argument can go any further. "And what're you- why now?"

"It's been almost eleven months," He responds, boredom sapping into his response. "I was almost just going to let you waste your time around here- I caught on pretty quickly as to what you were doing." He smirks. "Which is more harm than good, by the way, so I figured I'd let you learn your lesson." Chloe scowls. _Dick_. "But then Beca's family- oh," He now addresses Beca directly. "Sorry to break it to you, but unfortunately your family decided it was best to pull the plug."

And now it's Chloe's turn to whip her neck in the direction of the girl beside her. Just in time to see the colour drain from her face and slacken with shock. Reaching out, she pulls Beca's hands into her own. She couldn't imagine how it must feel like to have your life end like this; to find out your own family had come to the decision for you that it was what was best. Chloe could understand it came from a place of caring, when she thought about it, but she knew it was still a trip for Beca.

"When?" The girl utters out, eyes glassing over.

"About sixteen hours ago." Death lights up a cigarette. The realization dawns on Chloe; Beca felt funny because she had _died_. Not because she was waking up. "I figured I better come get you before you disappear. Chloe being here keeps you from expiring a little longer, though, but-" He shrugs. "Time was running out. And _you_ -" He turns on Chloe now, eyeing her up unhappily. She feels her cheeks flush. "We're going to have to have a little chat later." He puffs long and hard- thoughtful- on his cigarette before he points it at Beca, the ash falling off and floating to the linoleum. "And you, I need a word with you, too."

And had the bells of dissatisfaction not already been singing inside of her; they're screaming now. If he wants anything to do with Beca it means that-

"Oh, no you _don't_!" She growls, springing off of the cot and walking up to his dumb little self, jabbing a solid finger into his sternum. He tuts reprovingly but says nothing. "You leave her alone."

"I don't understand." Beca says from behind them, still sounding in a daze. Chloe doesn't blame her. It was a lot to take in. But she remains solely focused on him; glaring into eyes that are maybe green or brown or blue or a neon pink for all she knows. Actually- she's pretty sure they're not that last one.

He sighs to himself, carefully plucking Chloe's wrist in his free hand and removing the offending appendage from his body. "Chloe." He says softly, guiding her hand away and back to her side. She worries it's condescension she hears in his voice.

"But it's _my_ fault!" She can't let Beca have this. She won't allow it. "I let her go- both times! It's my fault!"

Death purses his lips, eyes peeking around Chloe and towards the girl still curled up at the top of her bed. He puffs on his cigarette again, and right before Chloe's about to explode and demand he says something, he speaks. "I see _someone_ hasn't been entirely honest."

Which is... not what she wants to hear. Glancing over her shoulder at Beca, she blinks; a silent question in what on Earth it was that he was talking about. Beca, however, looks just as lost. But Death is never wrong. After a few beats, he chuckles. "Beca- had she not already caught my attention at one point- called to me about... oh," He scratches his head in a moment of ponder. Chloe ponders something completely different; called? "eight or so years ago? No. Nine." He finishes with a nod. Beca's eyes grow. Chloe's brow furrows.

"Beca?"

"I..." The girl trails off, shaking her head rapidly. "I thought about um- you know," She wrings her arms out in front of her and shrugs. " _ending it_ or whatever- when I was in eleventh grade," Chloe's heart seizes.

Beca had never mentioned that before.

But, then again, who would want to dwell on _that_ while they were in a coma? But still- her lack of communication about such a heavy event selfishly prodded at Chloe. Though she had no right. She had barely spoken a word about herself beforehand.

"Beca..." It comes out barely a whisper. She fucked up. They both did.

"I didn't- I obviously didn't." Beca amends quickly, as if it would help. "But, I really thought about it. I was going to. I was ready to until I-" She cuts herself off, swallowing thickly and making some kind of incredibly vague hand gesture.

She turns back to Death, who was idly flicking the ash onto the floor. He looked to be growing impatient. "Please don't," She says it so softly. "Please just- just let me,"

He raises his eyebrows. "But then there's the pneumonia."

Beca's jaw drops. "I- what?"

"Eight months old," Death recites. "Got a nasty case of it, didn't you?"

Beca's head whips to Chloe desperately. "I'd heard the story but," Voice shaking. Chloe feels like she needs to sit down. "I always thought that my dad was exaggerating when he said that I almost died."

"Your heart stopped, actually." Death butts in- very rudely, in Chloe's opinion. "But just for a moment. It was enough for me, though."

"So you-" Chloe turns to Beca, pointing at her in her daze. "you had pneumonia as a baby? You thought about killing yourself in high school? You died when you had alcohol poisoning and then in the car-?"

"I'm sorry!" Beca blurts, fat tears escaping her eyes, sending a wave of panic shooting through Chloe's core and she rushes away from Death again. "I have bad luck I don't-"

"No, no," Chloe uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears, all the while throwing another nasty look at Death behind her, before she sighs. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I wanted to keep you alive." She mumbles, eyes focusing in and out on the fabric stretched out over Beca's shoulder. She couldn't quite bring herself to look _at_ her just yet. "I guess it would have been kinder to let you die."

"What?" Beca shrieks, and Chloe kicks herself again. At the same moment, Death lets out a long groan.

" _Must_ we with the theatrics?" He laments, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.

"What's happening?" Beca's tears are coming faster now, and Chloe frantically tries to keep up.

"It's fine." She amends- lamely.

"Please, can we talk in the car?" Death mutters, flicking the butt off of his fingers and tapping his wrist- where there is suddenly a watch. "Time is wasting."

He has a point. Beca won't last here forever.

Beca sniffs, running the back of her hand over her dripping nose in a manner that seems uncharacteristically childish. "There's a car?"

Death smiles. Chloe frowns.

There's not a car. He's just being a jerk.

"Come." He offers his hand out towards Beca. "Or stay here forever."

Tentative, ink-blue eyes that Chloe loves seek her out. Ask her silently for guidance. It hurts her; somewhere deep, the knife twists and pushes farther under her ribs. But she takes Death's hand first; and Beca follows her lead. Chloe can't be sure what happens next. So she takes a good, long look.

* * *

She's lost her heartbeat, she's pretty sure.

Which is a crying shame, because she was just starting to get used to it.

It's silent, and it's black again. The nothingness. It rips her and then licks the wounds; she'd missed the nothingness, occasionally; missed it's simplicity and it's quiet. She'd grown accustomed to it before Beca. It had been a comfort; like home.

Now it's a prison again. And Beca is haunting the halls.

* * *

Partially, she's surprised to see Death again, so soon. He looks a little worn out. But, he did say he wanted a word with her. So she prepares for the scolding, frowning her way over to the chair opposite his desk, and flopping herself unceremoniously onto it with a huff.

He wanted a word with her? Fine. She wanted a word with him, too.

Death snorts, making his way over to the chair adjacent. "Somebody's discontent." He observes sardonically, and Chloe can't help but roll her eyes. "Hate to have taken away your fun."

"I'm sure you did." She mocks- matching his level of dry condescension.

"You're right- I didn't. Not really." He fiddles with straightening a few pens and notebooks on his desk. "I decided it's part of the problem."

"What is?" She counters, propping one elbow onto the desk and resting her chin in her hand. She wants to see Beca. Wants to know what he's done.

"Well," He slides a pen into place, lining perfectly up with the other two. "like I said, I saw what you were on to pretty quickly. I know you well enough." His eyes twinkle up at her. "I thought I'd let you hang around. It would hurt you more in the long run, and all."

"Wow," She jeers, taking her free hand and stretching it across the table to flick the pens he had just realigned out of place. Just out of spite. "You are such a good friend."

"I let you experience emotion." He clarifies, patiently realigning the pens. "You worked very hard on stripping yourself of most of that."

Which is true. Chloe knows this. She doesn't want him to be right though- but, there's no way he's not. Which is frustrating. She skews the pens again, just a little bit. "Well, great."

He sighs. Staring her down for a long moment, before fixing the pens yet again; not betraying any sign of real annoyance. "I'd have to keep you here a lot longer, you know."

"I fucked up." Chloe mutters, moving her attention from the pens to the notebooks now. Lifting the stack and scattering them slowly over the desk space. "I get it."

"Was it worth it?" He asks softly. Chloe shrugs.

"Yes." He, just as coolly, picks up the notebooks and returns them to his spot of choice. "What happens to Beca?"

He raises his eyebrows, lolling his head from side to side. "Well, she stays here- with me." If Chloe had the energy for her temper to flare; it would. But she had already accepted this fact. It was clear that this was the path Death would be choosing for her. And the fault was Chloe's. Had she just grabbed Beca the first time- or the second- she could have prevented this. "But she doesn't need to make up a lot for me, if that makes you feel better. She's got nothing on you." He jokes, a friendly grin, and that's the last straw to make the tears start burning in Chloe's eyes.

"Okay." She chokes out, and he tuts disapprovingly.

"See?" He questions. "This is why you shouldn't have stuck around."

"Are we- can we- can I-?" Where to begin is lost on her. Asking Death to be with the potential love of her life _after_ death sounds hopelessly pathetic.

"I sent you to Beca Mitchell on purpose." He drops that bomb on her, and she's so surprised that she forgets that she's about to cry.

"What?"

He shrugs. "The second time, at least. I wanted to test you."

And now- oh, he just knows how to rub her the wrong way. "Test me? Was I your lab rat or something?"

"A little bit." Chloe scatters the pens again, this time with enough force to send one onto the floor. "I wanted to see how you would react if I sent you to someone who was..." He takes the moment of consideration to rearrange the pens. "well, a lot like you. You failed." Chloe scowls at him; if looks could really kill... "But it turns out, this is the reaction I wanted, after all."

Her eyebrows hike for her hairline. "Okay, so, what does that mean?"

He stares back at her for a long moment. "I've decided it's time for you to move on."

Had she not been bracing her chin against her hand, her jaw would have dropped. She thinks she blacks out for a moment- but the kindling of the anger is enough to burn to life now. "What-? You're just going to, to- to let me _go_ now?" Pushing herself to her feet, she shakes her head. No. This couldn't- he couldn't keep pulling her strings like a marionette. She wouldn't have it. "Now that I've _finally_ figured out something- _someone_ , that- that makes sense? That makes me feel like there's been some kind of meaning behind all of this? Life?"

Death sighs again, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. Typical. "You've been wonderful." The cherry burns bright as he inhales. "But I'm disappointed that you're still looking at it that way." He releases the smoke.

He's so cryptic and damn... all-knowing. For some reason it makes her bristle. He's going to take Beca- and let _her_ go now? Now that they had something like a chance? "Looking at what, what way?"

He rolls his eyes. "Looking for a _meaning_. You should be seeking the nature of your life."

Him and his life lessons can piss off. "What are you trying to tell me- there's no meaning to life?" Because she's been out there, doing his dirty work. She's had old women talk to her about their lives and their regrets. She's lured a small, sick child to the other side. There is always a meaning, as far as she cares. Death just doesn't know shit about life. "That this is all robotic bullshit?" There has to be something. "I _know_ you know! You know everything!"

"Meaning is something that is _ascribed_. Nature is objective reality."

"You're trying to tell me that there's no meaning? Not to life?"

"I'm telling you that it is far more _illuminating_ to revel in the nature rather than waste your time searching for a meaning." He replies dully, pulling another drag and then tapping the ash into his tray. "Daydreaming about meanings will blind you from discovering things far more worthwhile. Don't look for things. Looking for things where there aren't things- that is a waste of life." _Pessimist_ , she thinks bitterly. "I thought maybe you would understand this all by now, but, I suppose not." He takes another puff. "You're smart but you're only human, after all."

 _Only_ human. "Fuck you, Death. I thought we were friends."

"Think about what you already know." He insists, throwing his free hand out to his side. "Dying, that's a construct. You keep coming back. It doesn't exist." He makes a pedalling, circular motion with said hand, and smiles, with a coy shake of his head. "You _will_ experience, you _have_ experienced, every instance of so-called life. The wheel keeps spinning. All instances of the same life, just separated."

"Then what the hell is this?" She gestures to the room they stand in. "This place? This isn't life. It's not death."

"You're right- it's not. This is so much more." And then his teeth poke out between lips. He looks so endearing. No wonder so many people seek him out. "And you should feel glad. All of this?" He taps his head. "It stays in there. I shouldn't be making you smarter, but I am." He takes another long drag, and Chloe watches the paper of the cigarette dwindle away. "Because you fascinate me."

Flattery. Of course he does it well. But that's beside the point. "I'm not leaving." She says stubbornly. "Not now."

"What do you think?" He taps the ash and then takes one more short puff, before putting out the butt. "You'll play happily ever after- see each other after jobs out?" He purses his lips together, stretching his hands out in front of him. "It doesn't operate like that. You're done. It's time to leave."

"Fuck you," She barks out, resisting the urge to kick at the chair. "how could you do this to me?"

"Don't you want to live?" He counters, curiously leaning forwards in his seat.

Eleven or so months ago- there was nothing she wanted more. And now, faced with the option, she can't help but know she's been swayed. Beca has changed that. "No.. not..." Beca gave her a chance. And Chloe, unknowingly, had just failed her. She told her she would never leave- not like her father did. Not like her best friend in middle school did. She was different- she was _dead_ \- she was forever, or so she had stupidly, cockily assumed. "not now. I- she's- this isn't-"

Death shakes his head again. "This doesn't play out any way you want it to, no matter which way you look at it."

"And you're going to keep her here?" She mutters, mirroring his action- her disbelief leaking through her voice. How could she have tricked herself into thinking maybe Death wouldn't be an asshole? "Like this?"

"She owes me. Though- far less than you did." He points at her and chuckles.

"This is twisted. I can't believe you're doing this."

"It's not to punish you. It's purely coincidence."

"Like hell it is!" Throwing her arms out to her sides, she turns her back to him. Can't even look at him when he's lying directly to her face.

"You're time is up." He sounds helpless. It's a joke. He has control over all of this- both hands on the wheel. Everyone's life in the palm of his hands. "You're free. Now, you leave. This is how this works."

"I can't- I don't want to." She drops her gaze to the floor- the anger and sadness wavering through her voice. "I have too much here."

"You have nothing here. What you think you have, it's time to let it go."

"Please, please don't make me." Spinning back around to face him, she watches just as he begins lighting up yet another cigarette. He has a real problem. "Please let me be with her. I know you can do that- you can let me."

"You will be born again." He says through his exhale. "You have new chances. A new life. You can let go of all of this pain." Funny how the words just make the pain worse. "Live. I'm sure you've forgotten what that feels like."

"No," Adamantly, she continues to shake her head. "I've just found what it feels like."

"This existence is not _life_." He laughs desperately, taking a long drag and lamenting. "They're actually _vastly_ different things. You're just looking for ways to feel it again- you've been removed too long to know what it feels like. You're compensating."

"Compensating." The _nerve_. "You call this _compensating_?"

"It's exactly that. And now you're stopping yourself from living. Because you're afraid of losing all that you have. But you won't be losing it. You just have to find it."

"I don't know how to do that." The stages of dealing with a death; denial, anger, bargaining, depression... "I don't know what that means."

"There you are- looking for _meaning_ again." Exasperatedly, he throws his head back on his shoulders. "Don't overthink. It kills you."

"I don't want her here like this." The stages of life, are maybe the same. "This existence is miserable."

"She'll be alright."

 _Acceptance_. This is Death. He spins the wheel. He _makes_ the wheel. There was no way to get around his will. She watches as he pulls out another cigarette and lights it again. "What about morality?"

He blinks, clearly thrown. "Clarify?"

"What..." Shuffling forwards, she slumps herself into the chair again, staring at those pens. Deciding whether or not she wants to disrupt them again. "do you base your morality on?"

His grin pulls slowly over his face- thoughtfully. If she was going to die- correction, _live_ \- he may as well be honest with her. "Compassion and..." He takes a puff. Lets it out. Thinks for a moment longer. "evidence. She won't need to be here long. Not compared to you."

So now she knows. "How long have I been here?"

He makes some kind of noise of dissent. "You don't want to know the answer to that."

"Just... tell me." She sighs, clasping her hands together in her lap and shrugging half-heartedly. "If I'm going to be alive again soon, I won't even remember and it won't even matter."

"It'll do you no good." Death insists with a shake of his head.

"Please just tell me." She needs to know what happened. What _could_ have happened. Kyle- Kip... Aubrey... "Kip- is he, he's alright, right?" The thought that she may have been here longer than she even imagined strikes her suddenly, with the force of a freight train. "I haven't been here that long, right? He hasn't... you know? Just tell me. Please." He exhales sharply. "Please just tell me, it doesn't matter anymore."

"Nine years." He responds brusquely, flicking his ash. "Almost ten."

"Nine..." Long. But, also, hearing nine years felt incredibly short. "I should be thirty-one, then?"

"Yes, I suppose you should be."

"Kip- what's he- is he married?" But it's still long to those who are still alive. Long enough. "Does he have kids? Should I be an aunt? Aubrey..."

"Married, yes. Kids, no." He sighs, sounding bored again. "Not yet. Soon, I imagine. They've been married long enough."

She couldn't care less how Death feels. "Really? Wow. How is Aubrey?"

"Fine, they're all fine." He dismisses with a wave of the hand. "No one you knew has had anything particularly terrible happen to them. Her dog died."

"Oh, my."

"Unfortunate."

"Yeah. Is Angelina Jolie still alive?"

A soft crease forms between his brows. "Yes?"

"Oh, thank God."

The silence stretches out between them for a moment. But not too long. She supposes he feels that he has places he needs to be. "Do you feel... closure?"

"I don't want to leave her." Chloe doesn't even need to think about how she feels.

"You can say goodbye, if you'd like." He offers, pressing the butt into the overflowing tray and rising from his seat. She _does_ feel closure. A little bit. "But I'm afraid it's time to go. Chloe, I need you to come with me." He outstretches his hand, his charming, friendly smile back on his face. She supposes, through it all, he has been mostly good to her. "Beautiful things are waiting."

Beautiful things. Feeling her lips twitch into a smile, she gently places her hand within his. "You're such a smooth talker."

And his smile always grows. "I always have been."

* * *

She's not sure how it happens; whether she leaves or Death does, but suddenly Beca is standing there in Death's room; with his desk sitting open and alone, and the fire going in the mantle. It wasn't going a moment ago, which is the biggest contributor to Chloe's current confusion.

But that's short-lived when she sees Beca hugging herself on the other side of the room. Scared and so, unbelievably small looking among the Goliath of a fireplace and the regal furniture. Death's taste is very fine.

Beca's eyes dart around and land on Chloe immediately, the moment before her face breaks. "I don't-"

"Shh!" Chloe shushes sympathetically, practically crawling over the desk to get to her. "Don't cry, don't cry," Beca's arms are out feebly, ready to meet her when Chloe's body embraces her own in a tight hug. She squeezes her eyes shut, bringing one hand up to the back of Beca's head to gently cradle it into her neck. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm supposed to, to get people-?"

"I know." Chloe sighs, breathing in that scent; cherries and black licorice. She can't believe how used she's gotten to that smell.

Beca pulls away from Chloe, wiping against the tears running from under her eyes. Chloe's nose is starting to sting, and she knows she's not going to be able to put up a front against the waterworks that are sure to come in the next few minutes. "What's happening to you? Are you going to be here?"

Forget that; _seconds_.

She can't do anything to stop the stream that's soon running over her cheeks and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and pinches it tight, hoping to ground herself with the pain. "I um-" She knows what she said, back at the hospital. That she wouldn't leave. She could never have suspected what would happen when she spoke those words the first time in the room. But that was then, and this was now, and those things changed. But she can only think about how Beca had opened up about her father, about how he left. There's no choice in it this time, though. That's the difference. She has to hope it's enough. "I have to go now."

Chloe holds her breath as she watches those dark blues search her eyes helplessly; the glare from the fire emphasizing the tears building. Chloe can see the moment the betrayal sets in; in the way her brow dips inwards slightly and Beca takes a singular step backwards. "You have to go?"

Slowly, she nods. "Yeah. I can't-" Beca's eyes harden and she steps backwards farther. "I can't do anything about it Beca- I didn't think, I wasn't supposed to... But Death, he... he's fucking around with me and he wants me to live now-"

"He wants you to live now?" She questions incredulously. "How am I supposed to buy that? If you- you had the job that I'm supposed to have now, how do I know this wasn't all just a ruse?" She spits, angrily flicking away a tear that escapes down her right cheek. Chloe's heart, the one that had been pumping in her chest- whom she'd been arguing with over the last few months- she thinks she can actually _feel_ it break. Splinter. She's seventeen again and her first love is leaving her- again.

"Beca..." Is all she can say, so softly that she barely hears it in her own ears. "I begged him not to."

Her tiny fist balls at her waist before she averts her eyes entirely from Chloe before her. "So leave."

"Beca," Chloe manages to find her strength and take a step forward, reaching out for Beca, but the girl only takes a few steps farther away, until her feet bump against the couch. "Don't- I tried, Beca, this wasn't my choice. It's him and his fucking irony,"

"If you're going to leave just go."

"Don't be like this," She pleads. "Why would I choose this?"

"It's your fault I'm here!" Beca explodes, her chest heaving unhappily and Chloe can see the way her lip quivers underneath her anger and her sadness.

And she's right. Chloe knows she's right. "I'm sorry." She whispers. "I was trying to help. I love you."

Beca holds her ground. Tiny but angry and quintessentially, Chloe thinks, it's the figure of Beca Mitchell. Determined. Stubborn. She hadn't had the chance to know Beca when she was alive- truly alive- with changes of scenery and with more to work with than the confines of her hospital room, but she thinks she might know Beca well enough now.

But maybe she didn't.

It was all the same now, anyway.

But after a few moments of silent pleading, seconds of nervous prayer, nervous cursing, nervous something that Chloe can't quite put her finger on to stop herself from her full-speed-ahead tumbling within her own skull; all there is is Beca, standing in front of her, and all Chloe can do is hope that she can understand. Hope that she can forgive. And this tumbling is followed by maybe two whole seconds of reflection in which Chloe realizes the words " _I love you"_ never sounded so broken and so inaccurate and the considered words " _I promise_ " never seemed so trite and so distant.

There wasn't a lot left to do. The only thing she can do, among praying, among hoping, was wait.

And after what couldn't be longer than twelve seconds, maybe, Beca's composure crumbles as she exhales heavily. Her eyes hedge at making contact with Chloe's own and they do, for a moment, before Beca looks away again. "I'm sorry." She mumbles, fixating her gaze on the floor. "That wasn't cool of me. You didn't know." She sniffs again, sharply, and tips her head back on her shoulders. Chloe's fingers twitch with the urge to reach out for her, but she instead distracts herself by locking them in front of her. "You couldn't have known. _I_ didn't know that this is how this worked."

Pursing her lips together, Chloe feels one tear escape her. "I wish I could switch places with you."

And there's another long moment, where first Chloe sees Beca's lips shift into the smallest ghost of a smile, and she tilts her head to look at the girl across from her. "I wouldn't want to. You have been here long enough."

"Yeah, but-" _My fault._

"But nothing," Teeth poke out between lips and she shakes her head again. "What's done is done. It's hardly your fault. I was dumb, too."

"You didn't-" _know._

"Death told me about you, too." Beca interrupts yet again. Chloe tries to swallow thickly. "You didn't know either. You know, he told me that he sent you to me on purpose- the second time,"

 _Death_.

Beca continues without pausing. "He said that you and I had a lot in common so he wanted to see how you did, or whatever. It helped that I went to Barden too and all that crap," Beca waves it off with another sigh and a flick of the wrist. "And we both even cheated him once before that, apparently. I was a toddler though, so, I had no clue. But that's whatever."

"What an ass." Chloe huffs. Beca laughs.

"Yeah. I've gathered that much already."

It's Chloe's turn to laugh now. It's so easy with Beca. Here she is, trying to say goodbye, and after the small outburst it was starting to feel like " _goodbye_ " was only a " _for_ _now_ ". When she realizes this, she takes a moment to appreciate it. At least she had something like this, for a while. "Thanks, Beca."

The girl in question blinks, brow furrowing. "For what?"

And Chloe shrugs. "For it all."

The brown haired girl returns to her with a tentative step. "So you leave now?"

Isn't that the big question. "Yeah, I guess so. Soon." She takes a moment to take in the room again; the realization hitting her that she probably won't see any of this ever again. "Probably after I say goodbye."

Beca nods her understanding, slow and sad, but accepting. Her anger had subsided to something close to compliance. "I never admitted this, but," The girl mumbles, before Chloe watches her chest rise sharply with her deep inhale. "I've always hated goodbyes." And she tries to smile- she really gives it her best shot- but her smile wavers and quickly collapses in on itself in a tidal wave of tears. Her next words are gargled and barely eligible but Chloe is forgetting the fact that she's trying to give Beca space and wraps herself around the smaller girl again. "I hate them more now."

"Oh, Becs!" She cooes, cradling the girl against her once again. She can feel her own tears rolling again while Beca's sobs reverberate against her body. "Don't cry! If you cry I'm going to cry, and then it's," She hiccups, trying to choke down on her own sobs. "just gonna be a mess,"

Beca must be able to tell that Chloe is trying to make light of the situation, because even through her tears she chuckles a little. But her misery soon replaces that. "I'm scared."

When Chloe first got here, she was scared too. "Don't be." She sways them to and fro gently, before holding Beca out at arms length and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears. "Death is actually super nice, and he might be a bit of a jerk sometimes but he'll take care of you, I swear."

"I'm going to be alone." Beca whispers, and Chloe could only wish she had something better to tell Beca. But there wasn't- because she wasn't going to lie- and alone is something that Chloe has been dealing with for years.

" _All alone_ ," Chloe smiles when she says it, sniffling. " _Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot_."

Beca's bafflement is present on her face. She blinks, and her eyebrows knit together. "Did you just-?" She takes a moment to wipe at the base of her nose. "Did you just quote Dr. Seuss?"

And Chloe thinks she looks far too cute to not hug again, so she pulls Beca back to her, and holds. "Oh yeah."

"I'm going to miss you." Are the words Beca burrows into her shoulder, and Chloe squeezes tighter.

"Yeah." Something tells her that her time is up. "I'm going to miss you, too."

She was right.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

It's a door she hasn't seen yet. Hanging open widely, with nothing but a bright, snow-white on the other side. Chloe's heard of this door. When you see the tunnel- the one with the light at the end; this door is the light. The tunnel is Death's super quick, but gentle, guidance there.

"No, not really."

The door does not seem gentle. It seems sad.

"I assume you probably won't ever be." Death remarks, glancing down at her. "But you're ready to give it a chance?"

"What choice do I have?" There isn't one. That's the saddest part. Her goodbye with Beca had been bittersweet but it couldn't last long enough. She doesn't think it ever could.

"Oh, none." He affirms, shrugging. "It just makes it easier on the both of us." In his eyes- she can see it.

"You pity me." She accuses gently, staring back into the vast white space, instead of at him.

"Yes. I do."

"I hate you for this." Despite how good he's been. The kindness he had shown her- she meant it. And she had tried very hard to keep hate from her heart.

"I never expect to be loved." And he doesn't even give a crap. "You're so naive- why would you ever trust anyone who takes life?" And he is continuing to push the asshole quota. "But, remember something for me?"

"I won't remember anything." She mutters darkly, staring down that white. A whole new nothingness. This one was full of possibilities but none of them seemed great enough for leaving to be worth it.

"Sure you will. Nestled deep in you, all you have to do is search and find it." And he has the audacity to tap her on the temple. Indignantly, she ducks away. "It will all be there."

"Can you teach me how to do calculus?"

"No. I'm afraid that will take far too much time as compared to the amount we have." Always in a hurry. "I just have something really quite simple to tell you;" Mustering up the will, she meets his gaze with exasperation. "remember that life is too short to dwell on misery." He beams down at her. "Don't let it consume you."

It's good enough advice. But it doesn't make her feel any less unhappy. "Can you just do one good thing for me?"

"I'm no miracle worker." He grunts, now frowning. "I'm late. You're still causing me grief."

"I'm happy I am," He's a socialite, and as if Chloe feels bad for making him wait around. He was right when he said he'll meet everyone eventually. There wasn't any need for his impatience. "just to spite you."

Death lolls his head on his shoulder, grimacing down at her. "I don't want to see you again for a very long time." The heat of a fat tear drips down her cheek and Chloe lets it, clenching her teeth together as she stares back down into the whiteness, trying to psych herself up. "Take care of yourself."

This is it.

"Hey?"

Curiosity sparks in his eyes now as he looks down at her. "What is it?"

She will miss him, just as she'll miss Beca. And her memories. All of the ones she's buried. "Thank you. Please treat her well."

Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she watches as his face morphs into a humorous grin; wide, friendly, and inviting. "Of course I will." Those four words do something to wrap around Chloe's heart like a warm blanket. She feels it sing in her chest and peacefully start to make it's way through her veins. Because of all the things he does, he never lies. "You're all my best of friends."

And Chloe laughs. It's not something she expects but it leaves her in a quick burst of a moment. They _are_ all he has, she supposes.

Bringing her hand up to wipe at the tears escaping more freely now, she nods to herself.

It's truly the end now.

All she needs to do is step.

"Goodbye."


	5. Chapter 5

**We're here, at the end! I actually had most of this chapter finished before I even had the second chapter done. There were a lot of things I sort of wish I could touch up on; Beca, Aubrey, but- I decided at the end of the day it's Chloe's story. Hopefully this ending does the whole thing justice. Once again- thank you all for the support up until now. It was a fun one to write.**

 **TW's for this chapter; suicidal inclinations and some remarks at eating disorders.**

* * *

Chloe Beale is born on a snowy January afternoon, 1992, in Eden Prarie, Minnesota. Her parents are Evelyn Murphy and Peter Beale. They met when they were eighteen years old, and were married by the time they were twenty one. Not long after that, is the birth of their first child. Her older brother is Kyle 'Kip' Beale Murphy, and Chloe adores him, but she hardly told him often enough.

Chloe is born two years later. She suspects it's for a bit of extra cash on the child support cheque, but it's never confirmed. Not verbally anyway.

Her mom likes to stay at home and watch daytime television and her father works the odd job until he's eventually fired for his brute nature or stumbling, drunken ineptitude. They live with their grandmother Helen in the outskirts of the city and Chloe thinks it's totally _awesome_ because she bakes cookies and likes to take them on walks. She always smells like flowers and she teaches Chloe about the vegetables in the garden, and Chloe thinks she has the best smile lines she's ever seen. Grandma Helen reads to her and Kip almost every night and she always shares her chocolates. She dies when Chloe is around five, but she still remembers these things.

After she dies her uncle Joel and his family move in and that makes her father really upset, and they move away. To a trailer park in Georgia and she hasn't seen her uncle Joel since. She and Kip have to share a room now.

She plays outside a lot, with Kip. They get a dog, Bruiser, but they have to keep him chained to the tree outside so that he doesn't run away. Bruiser likes to play with them. He's big and he's fluffy and he's her first friend, other than Kip. Until she starts school and makes some new friends, that is. Amanda from second grade was especially awesome because she thought it was super cool that her mom would pack her some extra snacks so that they could share. Because Chloe never got _Fruit Roll-Ups_ ; they were too expensive. But, Amanda's mom was amazing so she always put some in special, just for Chloe.

Her mom still likes daytime TV and her dad still can't hold a job, them moving hasn't changed anything about that. One time, Bruiser knocks her over when they're playing and she has to get four stitches in her forehead. Another time, he gets too excited and bites Kip on the forearm. He gets put down after that.

Her mom starts to put one some weight, and dad tells her that she looks ugly. By the time Chloe's in fourth grade, her mom discovers that she really likes excersising. And dieting. She tells Chloe that she's only allowed one snack when she comes home from school- before _or_ after dinner- and she starts putting less in Chloe's lunch box. It's a tough rule to follow though, because she really likes food- especially cookies- so when she breaks the rule one too many times her mom gets fed up and buys new cabinets. These ones have locks on them. Dad's furious, but he gets over it when he gets a key. When they're at the gas station and mom buys her cigarettes, Chloe and Kip ask for chocolate bars. Kip's allowed one because he's a boy and he needs more to grow. Chloe understands. The lady behind the counter gives her a sad look when her mom isn't looking.

Kip saves his chocolate bar for later and shares half with her.

It goes on like this, and Chloe stops asking for chocolate bars.

There's a brief stint in middle school where Christine Meyers learns she's poor and her dad's a drunk after he's fired from her father's construction company. The nasty little axe wound taunted Chloe mercilessly about it to the point where Chloe once broke down crying under the slide on the playground. She had to find Kip after and he hugged her and told her not to worry about it. It's also around this time that Chloe snagged her first boyfriend; his name was Drew, he had brown hair, and he liked basketball. He was totally dreamy and all the girls wanted him. And, oh yeah, he _totes_ broke up with Christine to be with her, so it was scandalous and Chloe supposed the joke was on Christine. They held hands and they kissed once; an experience so mutually uncomfortable for the both of them that the process never repeated. They didn't talk outside of school, and even there, they just barely did. Christine was heartbroken. Because of his status with the ladies, Chloe instantly became kind of popular once they started dating even though they only held hands and barely spoke. But they went steady for two whole weeks, until spring break and his family moved to Nebraska. On the last day of school he broke up with her, and Chloe wasn't really that devastated. After his departure, her subsequent social standing was also forgotten.

In seventh grade, her parents decided it was no longer appropriate for Chloe and her brother to share a room. They lamented that if only they had another boy, they wouldn't have this problem. They came up with the solution of renovating the storage shed out back to be a bedroom for her, but Kip offers to take it instead because he's older. Her parents think that's fine and they have to start renting a storage box to put their Christmas decorations in. Chloe's sad that Kip has to be outside now, but she tries to happily decorate the space as her own.

It's also around this time that her trouble began. As childhood ignorance faded away into decidedly more adult realizations, mixed with an influx of adolescent hormones, Chloe took note that she was most definitely not satisfied. And her life was _definitely_ a little bit fucked up. Her mom no longer made her lunches but there were still locks on the cupboards and she didn't have a key. She had to ask her mother for it and was then inspected carefully with what she chose. It wasn't normal- but what was even worse was that she had to admit to herself that she liked the locks. It gave her regulation. Control.

She and Kip found a train bridge by the river once on an afternoon spent exploring. She liked to walk along the edge and dangle her feet over the running water. It was a rush. Adrenaline. And there was never anyone else there, other than her and Kip. It was their getaway. Their secret. But as Chloe watched her feet bob over the water, she found herself, on more than one instance, wondering what it would be like to die.

Sometimes she wished she would.

But she and her brother grew apart, steadily, once he gets to highschool. Being two years older meant by the time she was a freshman, he was already a junior. A world apart. It was like he never stopped growing. Chloe supposes he was good looking, even if that's a weird thing to say about one's own brother. But he was tall, had her same big blue eyes and thick, red hair- though his was darker- and a wide smile. A kind smile and a big heart. He kept himself busy with sports; joining football, and then when that was over, basketball, and then wrestling. Every year. Chloe totally idolized him, even if that was super lame.

When she finally makes it to freshman year, well, things got interesting. Chloe knew how much to pack for lunch. Sometimes she didn't bother packing one at all. And Kip said she should join a sport, so she did. Naturally; she chose cheerleading. Because she was drawn to the positivity and _yeah_ , she'd be lying if she said the social status it would bring her wasn't part of the choice, too. Because Kyle was a popular guy. And Chloe wanted to be just like him. Just like him when he sometimes shoved an apple he bought in the cafeteria in her hands and just like him when he stops to carry other girl's books and open doors for them.

She was one of the two freshman who made the team, alongside Aubrey. Personally, Chloe thinks she blew her audition but the head cheerleader, Grace, said they had good bone structure and a nice physique and they didn't _totally_ suck so. Welcome to the team. She'd cried happy tears that day, secretly, to herself, and then boasted about it to her mother when she had gotten home. The woman had grunted something about that being ' _nice_ '.

She dove into the waters of dating once again when she met Dalton Turner, a boy in her grade who was on the JR football team, and Chloe thinks they might have talked twice in biology before he asked her out. She thought it was a bit odd, considering their lack of communication beforehand, but it felt like she should say yes. So she did for no reason other than he was okay and kind of cute and he was on the football team and she was a cheerleader. That's how it was in the movies, right? They made out a few times, and it was sloppy, and there was too much tongue. Chloe thought it was gross. But she could see the appeal for when it was done right. One time he groped her boob over the shirt and she wasn't ready for it, so it kind of freaked her out but, she didn't give him hell because she supposed they were just trying to figure this whole thing out. The blossoming romance didn't quite last two months before he was dumping her because he said he only liked her as a friend, and Chloe has a hunch it had something to do with her unwillingness to move past the first base because three weeks later he was dating some girl and she heard he'd lost his V Card. She wasn't that upset but it hurt a little bit. Enough so that the next time a boy asks her out, she says no.

The first time she cheats Death, it's an accident. It happens when she's fifteen and her growing streak of rebellion persists in the form of her sneaking out of the trailer in the wee hours of the morning after a drunken argument between her parents makes the whole thing shake. She doesn't go to Kip's room though because she's a bit peeved at him; since she'd gone to him to confess her growing, _itching_ , nagging feeling of miserable existence and he'd told her to leave him alone before she even got the chance. And it had been at _school_. In front of his _friends_. Of course- she was obviously going to talk to him about all that in private, but he'd basically told her to hit the highway as soon as he saw her.

So, no, she doesn't go to his room. She brings her pity-party to McDonald's and she binges on some ice cream and then feels bad about it after and sulks some more. It's not efficient but it's not the first time she's done it. This time, she gets robbed. The first thing he takes is her cellphone and somewhere in Chloe's frantic panic she tries to knee him in the crotch and he comes down on her thigh with a switchblade and takes off. It hits her femoral artery. She should have bled out in the streets but she manages to hobble back to the McDonald's and get them to call an ambulance while she bled all over the linoleum. By some miracle, she survives. The nurse tells her she's really lucky. Later on, Death tells her that he hadn't even been on one of his vacation days but he'd definitely had his eye on that little incident and was definitely disappointed when she somehow made it. She has to get nine pretty heavy duty stitches this time, and to say her parents were pissed would be an understatement. Kip clues in pretty quickly why she hadn't just come out to his room and he apologizes profusely, but Chloe can't stay mad at him.

Because of it, at the start of her sophomore year, her coach advises her to take the year off of cheerleading. Which upsets her but she takes the woman's advice, and throws herself into her schoolwork instead. She's still friends with a lot of the girl's on the squad, mostly Aubrey, and that helps. It had been a great fear of hers that if she was no longer on the team, she wouldn't have anyone to associate herself with anymore. Her parents make her get a job to help pay off the hospital bill, and Chloe finds one bussing tables and washing dishes at a diner that mostly truck driver's stop at. Kip is a senior now.

She finds love somewhere she doesn't expect; _music_. She'd always enjoyed it but never thought much of it. But when she takes a band class for easy credits, she's surprised to find out how deep that love runs. Her music teacher tells her she has a good singing voice, which is also something Chloe had never thought much of.

There's no boyfriends this year. But a makeout session here, a _seven minutes in heaven_ romp there, and then suddenly sophomore year is coming to a close. It's Kip's last wrestling match and her parents don't show up- they never have- but she congratulates him to the moon and back. He wins a scholarship for it through a university in New York, and suddenly he's graduating and Chloe is flailing with the reality of it. Before he leaves he hugs Chloe so tight and cries for what Chloe thinks is the first time since he was ten years old.

And just like that, her best friend is gone.

She goes to the train bridge by herself. And she thinks in the quiet, with her feet over the water.

By junior year, she's somehow labelled ' _slut_ ' which Chloe thinks is funny considering she's never actually slept with anyone. She thinks it doesn't bother her but it starts to slip under her skin, and Aubrey tells her not to worry about it. That it's just high school and everyone is stupid and bored. But that doesn't stop the way some boys look at her and other girl's sneer.

She joins cheerleading again, and takes a band class but not just for the easy credits. When some boy named Chris from her first period photography and third period gym class asks her on a date, she says sure. She says sure the second time too. And the third. He's nice and he hasn't tried anything aside from a kiss goodbye- on the _third_ date- and when she meets him unexpectedly at a house party, her liquor-fueled mind is telling her it's as good a time as ever to lose her virginity and she might as well do it with a nice boy. They do it in a spare room of the basement and it lasts maybe ten minutes, and it's really nothing magical. Chloe is left disappointed. Chris kind of fucks off after that, which Chloe decides is fine. She gets her first semi-real boyfriend in the December of that year and they last just over six months. His name is Shawn Britton and Chloe thought she was in love with him. His smile, and his blue eyes, and his curly blonde hair. He was on the football team, and he gave her flowers and chocolates on Valentine's Day, and won her a big teddy at the arcade on her birthday, and they went shopping and to the dog park with his dog Felix. They had sex- _a lot-_ and eventually it was fun for her and she liked to do it. _Loved_ to. Sometimes she heard that people still called her a slut but it didn't bother her anymore because she was in a relationship and therefore; _not a slut_. Aubrey helped her with university preparation and together they dreamed what life outside of high school would be like.

Everything was going north of good. She still missed Kip, like, a lot, but they talked often. Her parents fought more frequently and her father seemed to stop finding jobs, at some point. Chloe hardly noticed. Things were going good but she didn't notice a lot of things; like the loss of her mom's money for Kip on the child support cheques and sometimes she forgot to eat. But that was fine. She was _happy_.

Shawn broke up with her at the start of the summer because she was suddenly ' _too clingy'_. Chloe cried her heart out at the train bridge for days. Aubrey offered to bash in his stupid, _stupid_ guitar or crush him in some other much more complex, emotionally devastating way. Chloe even called Kip and told him what happened, and he was justifiably angry and full of brotherly support.

Things really hit the rocks that summer.

Amongst her heartbreak over Shawn, she spent a lot of time alone. At the train bridge. She thought nasty, horrible, unhealthy things. Aubrey was concerned, she knew she was, but there wasn't much she could do if she couldn't find Chloe. And Chloe couldn't find enough alone time.

She thought about jumping, decided against it.

She loses weight.

It's late July when she comes home from the bridge one evening, and finds the trailer empty. She doesn't have to think long though; she can practically hear the echoes of the quarrel the two must have had a few hours before. She wonders why on Earth they don't just get a divorce already, but when she sees the amount of furniture knocked over or missing, she thinks this might be it.

She can't sleep. Tosses and turns in her bed, so she leaves. To go to Kip's room- not only because it's secluded but because she thinks maybe the reminders of him left in there will comfort her enough for her to get some rest.

It's the opposite.

It takes her a long moment, standing in the doorway to the shed, letting the scene sink in. Her dad's passed out on Kip's bed, the room has been littered with beer cans and whiskey bottles, and there's vomit on his chin and down his neck. He's a bit purple. Chloe turns the light back off and heads back to the house. She dials 911. Tells them to send an ambulance, puts on her shoes, and walks. At one point, she sees the ambulance fly past with it's siren blaring and lights flashing, and she keeps going until her feet find Aubrey's house and she only then realizes that she hasn't called or texted or anything. She's catatonic. Deep down, she's disturbed at her complete lack of reaction, and maybe even moreso by the fact that she doesn't _really_ care. Aubrey and her parents cry more than she does. She's pretty sure they might be crying for her, but she doesn't think much of it. Not much of anything.

Later on, her mom picks her up and brings her to the scummy motel room she managed to rent out for the night. She offers her a cigarette and Chloe declines. It's really quite anticlimactic, but suddenly her father was dead; choked to death on his own vomit, no less. It was pathetic. And suddenly she was ' _the girl who found her deadbeat dad's body'_.

There's not really a funeral but there's a small wake in his memory, where none of his family attended but Kip came down from New York and some of her father's equally pathetic friends drank and cried on her sofa. When they all leave, her mom bemoans on and on about what a loser her father was, and makes her greatest grievance pretty clear; which was, _what were they going to do without his slight income?_

Her next almost-big decision is maybe her worst. Beyond all reason, Chloe can't dare say what had urged her on, but she found herself in the storage shed, with a rope. Things had not turned around- although, why should she expect them to in the two weeks following her father's death? It was absurd. But her mother was completely unaffected, and uninterested in her well-being, and there was too much of this nothing inside her head that was occasionally filled with some kind of spiteful thought about herself. Had she the energy to be driven insane, she would have been. So, here she was. Stupid, naive, and _disgustingly_ hormonal. And she really considered it. Enough that she tied the knot in the rope with unsettling poise, enough that she could attach it to the upper beam on the ceiling, enough that she was able to step onto the stool with her head hovering dangerously close to the hole.

But then she thought about Kip. About Aubrey. About a few other people too, but mostly them.

And then she was totally frightened by herself, and she undid everything and took the rope to the bridge in the dead of night and burned it. It's a big turning point for her, and it's enough to scare her into talking to Aubrey about her feelings, and vulnerabilities and it's a relief. Aubrey's parents set her up with a therapist, and don't tell her mom.

Death will tell her at some point that this is the second time she really caught his interest.

By the time senior year starts, she has never been so comforted to have the routine she also, simultaneously, dreaded. Aubrey keeps a close eye on her. People avoid her for the first little while, put off by her assumed (rightly so) emotional trainwreck. She doesn't mind. She starts making the first moves to reach out to other people again. Boys start asking her out again, and she almost always says yes. Sometimes she kisses them, sometimes she doesn't, sometimes more. Aubrey scolds her, but Chloe says it makes her feel better, and the blonde can't argue with that.

And then, out of the blue, something different occurred. During a rather childish game of spin the bottle at a house party, Chloe lands on a girl. A junior on the cheerleading team. They'd been egged on by their peers to act on the bottle's fate and kiss- and Chloe had been surprised by how much she enjoyed it. From then on, after a confinement in Aubrey, her curiosities immediately shifted. A task that was admittedly harder than she initially expected, but she took her opportunities whenever she got one- usually drunken at parties- until she came to a very simple conclusion. She loved _love_. Loved having people to love and share intimacy with. This entanglement of course did nothing to curb other's use of the word ' _slut_ ', which people had been more tentative with now that she was a _'slut who found her dead dad',_ and kids are cruel or whatever but Chloe forced herself not to care. It was almost the end of the year anyway. And she had a new philosophy; to be the kindest person she could, always.

Maybe, in some ways, she still wanted to be Kip. Who'd always managed to do that on his own, despite his occasional slip up.

She _graduates_. She graduates and it's maybe the best day of her life, even though her dad isn't there and her mother leaves as soon as it's over, but Kip doesn't. They get ice cream.

She and Aubrey both make it into Barden. Her life does a complete one-eighty and she swears off men- _and women_ \- until she is totally happy with herself. She and Aubrey get a dorm room together, all of the money she'd been hoarding after paying off the hospital bill going towards that, and she gets a job at the restaurant just off of campus waitressing. She's happy. Even happier when she sees a sign up sheet for _fucking acapella_ \- holy crap, _what_?- and goes squealing into Aubrey's room and begging for her to come with Chloe to auditions. Aubrey thinks it will be ' _aca-lame_ ' but the jokes on her when she soon discovers that it's ' _aca-awesome_ ' and maybe she ends up taking it more seriously than Chloe does. But they're making music with their _mouths_. And Chloe loves her classes. She learns to cook, she learns to sing and dance in an acapella group, she learns how to read Russian- and life is very, _very_ different outside of high school, indeed.

She hardly talks to her mom anymore. Once she hits eighteen, the woman stops getting the support money, anyways. So what's the use of her? But she still talks to Kyle, of course, and he has a girlfriend and he's almost done his schooling to be a nurse- a _nurse_! He still always wants to help people!

She meets Tom in her second year of university, towards the end of it. He's sweet and he totally understands things- the things that hurt. He makes her think she's ready for something more again, but she waits, for months, to see if their friendship will last. It does. He doesn't try anything but Chloe admits to him in a burst of courage that she has feelings for him, and he is elated to say that he feels it too. Aubrey thinks dating him is a bad idea, because he's always seemed _off_ to her (she calls him a psychopath because he likes guns and eats jalapenos by themselves sometimes) but it's just her being protective. Things go well. He's laidback and he's totally supportive, they like to go to the movies, and he thinks acapella is super cool. She falls in love.

Their pastimes include playing frisbee in the quad, and he tries to teach her about guns and baseball. She laughs- and she's awful at anything involving guns- but the baseball is something she picks up on. She meets his parents. He doesn't meet hers. They move into a dorm together. When she tries veganism- a stint that lasts six whole days- he tries it, too. She has a pregnancy scare and Aubrey nearly slaps her senseless and drives her to the doctors, white-knuckling the wheel and muttering under her breath about protection, and how it should _always_ be used.

They're all happy and they're all fine. Until Tom unexpectedly loses his mother to a stroke.

He becomes depressed. Chloe is there for him as much as she can be, but he remains distant. After weeks the effort becomes fruitless, and she goes out with Aubrey to the bar for their celebratory ' _exams are over_ ' night out. Something about that rubs Tom the wrong way, and when she takes a cab back to their dorm and wanders in at a quarter to three in the morning, he's up and he's waiting for her. He tells her that he doesn't want to be with her anymore; he calls her selfish and they end up arguing so loudly- Chloe's still drunk, and now she's crying- that the campus security comes to their dorm after receiving a complaint. Chloe cries her way over to Aubrey's room and the girl is just as ferociously furious as she was the first time someone broke Chloe's heart.

The following evening Chloe returns to her room, hoping to find that Tom has reconsidered, but he remains unwavered. He's there and he hardly talks to her. Chloe boxes up her things and Tom's farewell is his assistance in moving boxes from their dorm to Aubrey's. The girl already has a roommate, but they agree to make room for Chloe for the last few weeks.

Finding herself again becomes a difficult task. She can feel herself slipping, as she had the summer that Shawn had broken up with her, and she's both outraged and disgusted with herself that she allowed this to happen again. It's three days after the end of the semester- before exams- that she cheats Death a second time.

She's crossing a sidewalk downtown- running to catch the tail-end of the crosswalk light before it turns red again, when a car that had previously been stopped at the light suddenly comes to life. The driver had a seizure at the wheel. A _chance_. A million to one chance- but Chloe is clipped by nothing more than the corner on her hip and the real damage comes from hitting her head against the concrete.

She's got a fractured pelvis and a bruised up leg, and a head wound. She's rushed to the hospital and loses consciousness in the ambulance but she's alright. She flatlines for a full second. She makes a full recovery and is compensated by insurance.

She really fucking _hates_ her luck.

"I'm wrapping you in bubblewrap," Aubrey sternly informs her through her tears, pointing at Chloe accusingly as she enters the hospital room. "And I'm never letting you go."

Kyle is also nearly in hysterics when he finds out, but she assures him, along with the doctors, that it could have been so much worse. The car was barely doing twenty miles an hour when it hit her.

Despite this, she still feels dark. Hanging out in the hospital all day only dampens her mood. She looks for things to occupy her; and after a conversation with another patient, she begins looking into near-death-experiences, now that she's had two. She misses her exam but due to the circumstances, she's allowed to re-take it in another few weeks.

Chloe's interest continues even after she's out of the hospital, while she and Aubrey move into an apartment. Since she's still on crutches, she's off of work, and spends most of her time on her own, holed up in her room. She reflects. She learns all she can- and she can almost- _almost_ \- remember many strange things from her last two near death experiences. She thinks she saw a white light.

When summer draws to a close, and she's about to enter her fourth year of college, Aubrey confesses her worry for Chloe. She asks if Chloe feels like she needs to see a therapist or psychiatrist again, but Chloe resolutely declines. She promises that she's doing okay. She still misses Tom- often and fiercely- but she's also inclined to blinding fury about it all sometimes, but it's nothing a few deep breaths can't overcome.

When she feels she's learned all she can about near-death experiences, she becomes bored. She turns her attention elsewhere. She had come across the term ' _astral projection_ ' a few times in her research; and while it was something she would have deemed as hocus pocus a year ago, she decides _what the hell._ Learning about it can't hurt. She tries to explain lucid dreaming to Aubrey and the look she gets in return tells her that she isn't doing anything to pacify the girl's concern. Chloe quickly brushes off the entire conversation by saying it's just her general interest in things that are superstitious, in hopes that it will alleviate some of the bewilderment.

She continues her quest for knowledge on her own. She's practically failing all of her classes, but she can't find the energy to care anymore. She didn't even know what she wanted to do. She was just working towards the end. She still puts in effort with Bellas, even if she's not quite in any condition to dance around on stage.

Dying isn't something she wants to do anymore because she's upset- only because she's curious.

"I think there's life after death." She confides in Aubrey one day. "I'm certain of it."

Aubrey eyes her warily around her mug of coffee- deep bags under her eyes and sleep tousled hair, she's still bleary from sleep and she doesn't have her contacts in yet. "Uh. Sure."

"What do you think?" In truth- Chloe had never felt more well-rested. The exact opposite of Aubrey. She'd been sleeping a lot more lately, because she was practicing how to lucid dream. How to do any of it. It was bizarre; and she knew it, but she couldn't stop. It felt like she was onto something so much more.

"I don't know Chlo." Aubrey turns away from her then, setting her mug down on the counter and untwisting the bag of bread on the counter. "I've never really thought about it."

Tom texts her two weeks later, asking to go for coffee. It takes four days of contemplating but Chloe finally answers and says yes. Good people give people second chances, she figures. They meet on campus and he apologizes for the way things ended. He doesn't give off any notion of wanting to rekindle things, and it makes Chloe ache a little bit inside but she also knows it's for the best.

She fails two of her four courses her fall semester. It's a waste of money. But Chloe can't bring herself to think long-term. She's finding it difficult to eat unless Aubrey makes her. She kind of yearns for locks on the kitchen cupboards, which is something that terrifies her but also settles deeply somewhere in her chest. It's enough to make her call her mother and then wish she hadn't after a three-minute long conversation. Her mother had apparently gotten a new boyfriend who didn't sound much different than her father, and her attitude towards Chloe hadn't really shifted much. It sounded as if talking was a burden because Chloe's existence no longer was financially beneficial for her. Afterwards, she calls Kip. It had been a while. He'd been so busy. Doing so well.

Chloe realizes they are polar opposites.

She doesn't really think she's going to die, but she can't be that bothered if she does anyway. Aubrey gets home around four every day. She writes a note and swallows the remainders of her sleeping medication at three twenty five before curling atop of her bed. She left the note on the kitchen counter.

It's selfish. And _cruel_. And she knows it. But she just had to _see_. She hopes that Aubrey can forgive her and swears that, if she lives, she will never _ever_ do it again.

At the moment it just felt like she didn't have a lot to lose.

She fell asleep.

And woke up nauseous and vomiting while Aubrey yelled and basically dumped a water bottle over her head, but the room was spinning and it all sounded like it was happening from behind a foam wall and she threw up over her bed sheets before lolling back off to unconsciousness. She was partially aroused again on the trip into the ambulance while strapped down on a stretcher.

She lived. Insurance wouldn't cover her this time, and Aubrey was furious, but Chloe had found what she was looking for.

"I hate you." Aubrey spat, through her tears, sitting at Chloe's bedside. " _Idiot_."

Chloe couldn't blame her for that one.

By an unwelcome chance, as Chloe sleeps, she suddenly feels detached. She sits up. The hospital is quiet for once, and when she moves her arm to check her IV, she finds it free. She stands. She realizes that she's asleep. Medication mixed with the absurdist fixation she'd been harbouring the last few months had paid off in a way she was no longer keen on discovering.

She wanders anyway. She can hear someone coughing, and so she follows the noise, tiptoeing into the room in question. There's an old woman on her cot who squints at her as she enters, asks a breathy _hello_ , and Chloe is so dumbfounded that she just tells the woman to go back to sleep.

Chloe had no idea what she'd done. She chalks it up to a fever dream that was partly due to the medication.

Kyle came down from New York again, and he stared at her for a long time after Aubrey left to get some food and rest. Arms crossed and watery-eyed, he offered to bring her up to New York with him to live with him and his girlfriend who Chloe actually had yet to meet. It sounded nice, but she knew she had to decline. She'd get her life back, she swore it. No more of this bullshit.

"I'm okay." She repeats for the umpteenth time, pressing a smile and raising her eyebrows at her brother.

"You're _obviously_ not!" Anger was something she saw on Kyle even less than sadness. It takes her by surprise.

"I mean it." It's weak. Sounds pathetic in her own ears. "This is the last straw, I swear it. No more."

"How can I believe that?"

She'd _prove_ it this time.

She spends a week in suicide watch at the hospital before she's discharged with the bill. Aubrey hardly talks to her. Chloe makes up for it by cooking breakfast and cleaning, buying groceries and recording _Mad Men_ for her on the PVR. Until one day when she comes home with an armful of groceries and Aubrey tells her to stop. Pay off the hospital bill instead.

Tom checks in. He's kind, but Chloe doesn't have the energy to risk falling for him again, so she only ever answers his texts in a blue moon and she only agrees to see him once. Chloe doesn't go back for the last semester. She can finally work again, so she does. As often as possible. She likes to keep herself busy and to avoid thinking about death. It's a few weeks of working nonstop and one very, _very_ bad trip later that Aubrey refuses to leave Chloe alone on spring break.

"I'm going home," She'd huffed, neatly removing clothes from her hangers and folding them with military expertise next to Chloe on her bed. "You're coming with me."

Chloe's not excited but she doesn't argue. She owes Aubrey that much.

And so they pack up and Aubrey drives with the radio up most of the time. They're getting better. She hopes the girl is learning to forgive her. They'd had a conversation the night before, which went about the same way as Chloe's with Kip had gone in the hospital.

"You haven't been dealt the best cards in life, Chlo," Aubrey had said softly, shaking her head and dropping her gaze to the floor for a long moment. "I'm not saying you haven't had a tough run. I know what your home was like." She sighs then- Aubrey, who was usually eloquent, seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words. "But you have a shot at a better future. _Don't_ blow it."

"I won't." She mimicked crossing her heart. "I'm trying."

Aubrey smiled, but her chin wavered a bit. "I know."

Chloe was _so_ not telling her about the bad trip. She'd already decided against _ever_ doing drugs _ever_ again. But she had meant it; for Kip and for Aubrey, she would try. She was learning how to try for herself as well.

And so they make it to Aubrey's. Mrs. Posen hugs her tight and makes her tea, but there's a strain in the corner of her eyes and Chloe can tell she's trying her hardest not to look at her like she was an unstable dog. She'd always been wonderful to Chloe, and Aubrey's family had become her own, but she couldn't blame the woman. Not after what she'd put Aubrey through.

They go out a lot, in the first week- sometimes Chloe joins, other times she stays home to watch their new puppy and to cook dinner. She spends her downtime reading several books from the bookshelf in Aubrey's room, all in a handful of sittings. She tells herself she's doing what she can.

One day, while Aubrey and her parents are at Aubrey's grandmother's house, the curiosity gets the better of her. Chloe texts her to tell her she's just going on a walk, and that she should be back shortly, before lacing up her shoes and letting her feet guide her through old streets she once wandered as a teenager.

Her feet bring her home.

Except, it's not home anymore. She knocks on the door and a complete stranger opens up; a youngish, lanky woman with a baby in her arms. Chloe apologizes and explains the situation, but the woman seems unbothered, simply tells her that she had moved in a few months ago. Chloe had no clue her mother had left.

And the notion struck her hard and fast; it was surreal. All of these things had happened. Chloe felt like she needed to sit down for a while; and so she went somewhere else she knew was faintly familiar.

The train bridge- her old safe haven. It was as solitary as it had always been. There were two missed text messages from Aubrey on her phone, but she didn't bother reading them. She just simply sat down on her old spot, letting her feet dangle over the edge. Reflecting. Her life felt very far away. Things that happened didn't feel like they had really happened to her. Part of her was hurt in finding out her mother had moved; but an even larger part was understanding that it shouldn't matter. She had all but forgotten her mother and her mother had done the same to her. There wasn't a _reason_ to be upset. She had a loving brother and best friend.

Aubrey was right. She _hadn't_ always been dealt the best cards, but no one is. She could grow. _Change_. She had learned a lot- things that were not essentially helpful, but she was a determined to be a different person now that she had been before.

After maybe twenty minutes of silent pondering, she pulled her phone from her back pocket to check Aubrey's texts. One simply asked if she wanted to have Mexican food for dinner, and the follow up was another question asking where she would be. She'd mentioned the train bridge to Aubrey before; how it was her and Kip's spot. About how if the water was low, there was a swimming spot in a back channel. It wasn't really low now though.

Using one hand to brace herself as she carefully stood, she typed out the three words. _Just heading back-_

"Chloe-?"

Startled, Chloe lets out a yelp, and jumps. She can see Aubrey's blonde hair coming from the trail on the other side of the tracks. But it's a flash, and her feet slip out from under her the second before she sees Aubrey break into a sprint, and then the clear blue of the spring sky.

And then it's cold.

Freezing cold.

The water catches her before she can hit the bottom, but the current takes her away. She flails, lungs burning as she presses for the surface and she breaks it- for a moment- before another wave is pulling her under and the mouthful of oxygen becomes water. Light breaks up and divides below the surface. Her body's reaction to cough is in vain. She tries to reach for the top again but she doesn't quite make it.

Death tells her once that life happens very fast. He's even faster.

Chloe Beale dies in March, on a sunny afternoon.

* * *

" _Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap!"_

Late again. She just about takes out some poor freshman on her way through the building, and the girl had barked at her something about watching where she was going, but she'd been too busy internally bemoaning to herself about how pissed her mom is going to be if she catches wind of this. She can just _hear_ the woman.

 _'Madison Chloe Beale! What did I tell you about being late to your classes? Do you know how much we pay for your tuition there?'_

The woman nearly ripped her head off when she'd ripped the skirt of her uniform.

Gotta love private schools.

As she comes skidding around the corner of her art classroom, nearly bumping into Rachel just as the second bell rings.

"Whoa!" Rachel catches her by the shoulders, holding her at arms length. "Slow down girl. You're burning rubber."

"Well, had to get here in time." She puffs, clutching her sketchbook tighter to her chest as she feels it slipping.

"Yeah, well-"

" _Beale_! _Swanson_!" Mr. Richter announces, pointing at the two of them with his pencil. "Seats, now!" He was a bit of an evil man, in her humble opinion.

Making a face before she turns, Rachel hurries over to their table in the back, and Madison is quick to follow. She'd known Rachel for a long time; her dad had been acquainted with Rachel's mother through her aunt somehow. They were friends and all, but Rachel was definitely like her father in the way that, when she had the chance; she did _not_ stop talking. It had been really weird the last time she'd seen the girl's parents, too. Mrs. Swanson had sort of gaped at her for a moment.

"Sorry," The woman quickly corrected herself. "I just- haven't seen you in a while. You look a lot like your aunt."

Sheepishly, she'd grinned before Rachel had pulled her aside. It was something she got a lot. Truthfully; Madison thought it was kind of weird to be compared to her dead aunt but, she could see where the whole ' _honouring the memory_ ' thing came in. Personally, she didn't really see it. She looked a lot like her dad. Her sister looked a lot like their mom.

Rachel thinks it's a little strange, too. "My parents met in a _grievance_ class." She whispered one time, wrinkling up her nose. "For people who have lost someone."

Chloe thought that was kind of sweet in it's own way. It was just weird because Chloe knew why Mrs. Swanson was there, and it was because of her aunt. It was kind of like she haunted her. Her middle name was _Chloe_ , for God's sake.

The classroom phone rang and Mr. Richter stopped mid-lecture to answer it. Glancing over at Rachel, the girl mouthed ' _thank God_ ' and she smirked, returning her attention back down to the doodle on her sketchbook. The Grim Reaper holding a scythe and a flag that proclaimed " _Richter's Class_ ". Rachel leaned over the desk to look at it. "You're so obsessed with death," She remarks, and Madison has an excellent retort about not being obsessed with Brad Pitt- unlike _someone_ \- before Mr. Richter called out, "Beale?"

Startled, she looked up, eyebrows arching upwards. "Yeah?"

"You signed up for showing the transfer freshman around?"

Blinking. "Yeah?"

He made an ' _up_ ' gesture with his hand. "Office, _now_. She's here."

"Oh," Scrambling to collect her things again, she throws an apologetic smile at Rachel, who was staring at her with a look of abandonment. "Okay."

She blows out of the classroom just as fast as she had entered. Stopping briefly at her locker, she throws her books back in the top and tucks a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ears. She had forgotten all about the conversation she'd had with the counsellor about showing around new students. She thinks she might have been slightly comatose from the allergy medication she'd been on.

Hurrying towards the office, she approaches the counter with a wide smile, and the receptionist grins back. "She's just talking with Shelley- ah, Ms. Erickson."

"'K." She takes a seat in a few of the open chairs in the front room, twiddling her thumbs until she hears the telltale nasally voice of the counsellor. Walking towards her, with a short brunette that Madison immediately recognizes as the freshman she'd bumped into earlier. She feels the heat flush into her cheeks and she drops her gaze to the floor- praying that the girl won't recognize her.

The voices near and Madison does her best to look preoccupied with a loose strand in the armchair. "So, schedule," She hears Ms. Erickson hand over something to the other girl. "And Madison here," At being addressed, she looks up, pressing a sheepish closed-mouth smile. "will show you around and answer any other questions." The counsellor beams, and gestures towards her. Rising from her seat, Madison smooths out the front of her skirt.

"Hi." _Please don't recognize me, please don't recognize me._

The brunette turns to fully look at her, and Madison does her best not to blink up a tornado. She looks familiar. Had she been at camp that one year? No, she _couldn't_ have- they only took in one age group. The girl across from her also furrows her brow for a moment, before shaking her head and extending her hand towards Madison. "Hey, I'm Kiara."

Coming to her senses, she gingerly grabs the outstretched hand and shakes. "Madison."

The girl smirks. "Yeah, I know. I've been told."

 _Stupid_. "Oh. Right." Dropping her hand back against her thigh, she considers asking Kiara if they had ever met before. "Have we-?"

"I don't know you, do I?" Kiara asks at the same moment, bringing her hand around to scratch at the base of her neck. And it's almost spooky, she thinks.

"I'm not sure." She admits, a bit of nervous laughter slipping out between words. "I'm kind of wondering the same thing." There's something about her eyes. The jaded, inky blue.

Kiara's smirk pulls into a smile, and Madison can feel herself mimic the action. "Huh." Her eyes search Madison's own for a moment; and she swims in them.

She feels like maybe she _had_ known them a lifetime ago.


End file.
